Of Guilt and Responsibilities
by praemonitus praemunitus
Summary: "It's ... over," he managed, his voice strained and barely audible, "t-tell ... Danny... I'm... s-sorry..."  Steve angst.  Steve whumpage.  Steve/Danny friendship  non-slash .  This is my first attempt at a Hawaii Five-0 story, so please be kind.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Detective Danny Williams raced his Camaro along the busy afternoon highway, ignoring the indignant honking and occasional cursing from the many unfortunate drivers that got in his way. His last phone conversation with his partner was playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, making him press the gas pedal even harder.

"_Danny, listen, don't freak out, okay? There's been an… incident."_

"_What kind of incident?" Danny snapped, feeling his heart rate jump several beats higher._

_There was a pause on the other end, and he heard Steve sigh as if in resignation. "Wo Fat," was the whispered reply._

_Those two words were enough to turn Danny's world upside down. His voice trembling now with real fear, he gripped the phone so tightly that the device squeaked pitifully under pressure. "Wh-where…" he managed to blurt out._

"_Over by Kamekona's. Grace wanted some shave ice so…" There was another pause, and Steve added in a voice that sounded pained somehow: "She's okay, Danny. A little scared, but okay." _

"_I'll be there in ten," Danny barked, not bothering to acknowledge his partner's last statement, as he felt panic begin to take hold. _

Now as he was speeding toward his destination, horrified by the prospect of what he might see (no, he didn't fully trust the Super SEAL's definition of "okay"), he started to feel anger slowly take up residence alongside fear. Anger at the pile of paperwork that had him stay at the office later than usual. Anger at the two stupid punks that were the cause of all that paperwork. Anger at himself for being "_stupid, stupid, stupid" _in deciding to ask Steve to pick up Gracie from school. And a rapidly growing anger at his partner for managing to attract trouble wherever he went.

By the time he made it to Kamekona's shave ice stand, the entire place was cordoned off with yellow tape and police cars were everywhere. His mouth suddenly dry with worry, Danny jumped out of the car and froze, staring past the flashing police lights at the white ambulance truck and the bullet-riddled blue Silverado standing next to it.

"_Oh God, Gracie!"_ Forcing his suddenly wooden legs to move, he pushed past the police officers, barking "Five-0" at the pair of hands that made a grab at him, and rushed toward the mangled vehicle, broken glass crunching under his feet. "Grace! Gracie!"

His desperate scream was answered a fraction of a second later as a tiny body flew into him full-speed, wrapping the little arms around his feet. "Danno!"

"Oh, Monkey!" Eyes closed in relief that almost overwhelmed him, Danny felt the sudden need to sit down, as he crushed his little girl close to his chest. "Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked finally, reluctantly pulling her away to get a better look.

She shook her head, smiling shakily. "Uncle Steve protected me, Daddy."

"I told you she was fine, Danny," his partner's voice sounded somewhere above his head, and the Jersey native sprang to his feet, anger taking full hold of his emotions.

"Fine? Fine?" the Jersey native countered, his voice rising a few octaves as he spoke, hands gesticulating wildly. "You call this fine? Have you seen your car? Or should I say 'the little spaces between the bullet holes that are left of it'? In what universe does having an eight-year-old be shot at qualify as being fine? Or how about watching four thugs being shot to death?" he stuck his hand in the direction of the four bodies that lay a few feet away from Steve's truck, undoubtedly dispatched by the Super SEAL.

"They must have been trailing me, Danny, I'm sorry," Steve offered tiredly, guilt written clearly on his face. "I did what I had to do." Raising his hands slightly in an almost unconsciously pleading gesture, he added in a quieter voice, "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to Gracie, right?"

This phrase, however, only served to make the blond detective angrier. The rational part of him knew that this anger was misplaced and that, instead of standing here yelling at his partner, who, Danny was certain of it, had done all he could to protect his little girl, he should be doubling (no, quadrupling) his efforts to get the bastard who was truly responsible for this mess. Yet, as was common for him in situations that were highly stressful, Danny chose to ignore that rational part.

"Is this not letting anything happen to her? Really, Steven?"

"Danny, I-"

Instead of a response, the Jersey native shoved the Navy man forcefully against the side of the ambulance. "Stay the hell away from Grace and stay the hell away from me," he bit out and stormed off, Grace tucked securely against his chest.

The ex-SEAL stared after his partner, trying to ignore the burning pain radiating across his back. Eyes clouded with hurt and confusion, he forced and failed to get his mind to comprehend what had just happened. All he knew was that he had somehow failed his partner and that he needed to find a way to fix things.

Feeling somebody's eyes on him, he turned to find himself looking at the concerned faces of the other two members of his team. The cousins have been observing his and Danny's exchange from a short distance, and neither of them missed the sharp hiss of pain when their boss's back connected sharply with the side of the truck, nor the sudden pallor of his face – all telltale signs of an injury.

"Are you okay, Boss?"

"Fine, Kono," the man responded hoarsely, forcing a smile onto his lips.

"Maybe you should get checked out, brah," Chin echoed, clearly unconvinced.

Steve shook his head, suddenly becoming aware that his arms were still raised defensively at his sides. Almost angrily he shoved them back into his pockets, frowning as his right hand connected with a small device in his pocket. Pulling it out, he fingered it absently in his hand, his mind already working on an idea.

"Is that a dead guy's cell?"

Chin's voice interrupted his musings, and Steve blinked, his gaze settling on the older man.

"Can I borrow your bike, man?" he asked, ignoring the question.

Chin's frown deepened. "You're not thinking about doing something stupid, eh Boss?"

Another attempt at a smile greeted Chin's words. "Don't worry about it. I just … I got something I gotta do and my car is, well, not drivable at the moment." His attempt at levity was failing miserably, and he could see that Kono was about to object. Before she could say anything, though, Chin pulled out his keys, handing them over to the waiting man.

"You know that going it alone is suicide, right?" he asked calmly, his dark eyes searching the younger man's face.

Steve laughed bitterly. "That's rich coming from a man who was willing to risk going to jail over something he didn't do."

Chin sighed in defeat, and the former SEAL clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Besides, who says I'm planning to do anything stupid anyway? " he grinned, and then glanced back in the direction, where his partner had gone, his smile vanishing, replaced by an expression of raw pain. "Take care of him, all right?" he whispered brokenly and, without giving them a chance to respond, turned abruptly and walked away.

The cousins glanced at each other, their faces dark with worry.

"He's hurt, Cuz," Kono supplied unnecessarily, pointing at the red stain that stood out clearly against white paint of the ambulance.

"I know," Chin responded through clenched teeth. _"Probably more so on the inside," _he added silently, watching the younger man take off on his bike.

"Danny shouldn't have –"

"He was upset, Kono. He probably didn't even realize…"

The Rookie's mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes drawn back to the smear of blood on the truck. "He's planning to go after Wo Fat, isn't he?" she asked, her voice small.

Chin nodded. "Most likely."

"Then we have to stop him!" Receiving no response, she prodded, louder this time, "Cuz!"

The older Hawaiian turned to face her, noting the look of desperation in her dark eyes, and shook his head in resignation. "I doubt we'll have much luck with that."


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! There's been apparently a glitch in the system, and my 2nd chapter seems to have disappeared :) I apologized if that caused any frustration on your part. I'm re-posting the chapter. Hopefully, this time things will go smoother (keeping my fingers crossed).

Thanks, as always, for reading! You, guys, are a wonderful audience and your comments are oh-so-greatly appreciated!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

The ride home passed in a fog with Steve nearly falling off the bike as it came to a sharp stop near his house. Stumbling up the porch, he made it behind the safety of the door, and slid bonelessly to the floor, ignoring the searing pain in his back that accompanied the movement. The bloody gash that a bullet ripped across his back had nothing on the wound that his partner tore in his heart.

Resting the back of his head against the door, he closed his eyes, Danny's parting words pounding against his mind with the relentlessness of a sledgehammer_: "Stay the hell away from Grace and stay the hell away from me."_ The former SEAL squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to force back the tears that burned them. As far as his partner was concerned, Steve was the one who put his daughter in danger. He could, of course, hope that, once the Jersey native had a chance to calm down, he would reconsider his threat, but Steve knew with bitter certainty that such hope was vain. He'd seen firsthand how Williams reacted when he heard that Grace and Rachel had been threatened at gunpoint. The blond detective was ready to kill Step-Stan with his bare hands, when he thought him responsible for that. And what happened today was no simple gun-swinging: it was a full-out gun battle, followed by a bloodbath – and little Gracie was right in the middle of it. There simply was no hope for a man that Danny held responsible for something like this. And the worst part was that Danny wasn't the only one who blamed him for causing this situation – Steve felt equally if not more responsible for everything that happened. They were attacked this afternoon because Wo Fat was trying to send him a message. Grace, the little girl he loved almost as much as a father would, was put in danger because of him. Hell, his entire team was in danger because of him, so long as Wo Fat was around.

The pained blue eyes flew open, resolve hardening his features. Wo Fat was his problem, and it was his responsibility to take care of it, to get rid of the danger factor – one way or another.

Pulling out the cell phone he lifted off of one of his attackers, he looked at it closely. Small, very basic, most likely disposable. _"Disposable phones for disposable thugs,"_ the SEAL scoffed. Scrolling down to check the call history, he felt his lips curl into a smile, cold and predatory. There was a single number there, dialed roughly around the time of the attack. And Steve was willing to bet that he knew whom this number belonged to.

Grabbing his phone, he dialed the one person who could help him without the danger of being personally involved.

"Catherine, it's Steve. I need a favor."

"Another one, McGarrett? You haven't even paid me back for the last one." He could hear the smile in her voice, and for a brief moment the thought of it made him feel just a bit warmer on the inside.

"I'm sorry, Cath. I promise I'll find a way to make it up to you. But this is important. Really, really important."

She must have sensed something in his voice, because the next thing that came out of her mouth was a very tense, "Is everything alright, Steve?"

"Can you trace a location of a cell phone for me?" he pressed on, avoiding her question. He heard her sigh, recognizing his stubbornness for what it was.

"Give me the number."

He did and waited patiently, hoping that the cell phone was turned on.

"A warehouse near the Kewalo Harbor, 900 Queen street," the answer came finally, and Steve blew out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Thanks, Cath. I owe you one."

"You better make sure you're around to let me cash in on those IOUs, McGarrett, you hear?"

Steve smiled at the undisguised concern in her voice. "Will do my best," he replied softly, hanging up.

Still smiling, he shoved the cell phone back in his pocket and pulled himself up off the floor, unable to bite back a groan of pain. Glancing back at the door, he frowned at the red stain that marked the place where he'd been leaning a moment ago. He needed to stop that bleeding. He couldn't let blood loss interfere with what he needed to do.

He was headed for the bathroom, when a sharp knock on the door made him stop in his tracks. He froze, listening intently to the sounds outside.

"Open up, Steve, I know you're in there. I really gotta talk to you about dumping my bike on the ground like that."

Shaking his head in frustration, the former SEAL flung the door open. "What are you doing here, Chin?"

The older Hawaiian pursed his lips slightly at the gruff greeting. "Can I come in?" he inquired calmly. Receiving no response, he cocked his head slightly to the side, the dark eyes boring into Steve's. "Listen, I just dropped Kono off at her place, and the only way reason she actually agreed to stay home was because I promised her that I would come check on you and help you with whatever crazy thing you're thinking of doing. So unless you want her involved in your harebrain scheme, I suggest you let me in."

Steve considered him silently, his jaw muscles tightening, then, without a word, he turned around and walked away, leaving the door open.

Taking this as an invitation, Chin walked in, shutting the door gently behind him.

He found Steve in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, his naked back toward him.

"I need you to help me stitch up my back," Steve threw over his shoulder, when he sensed the other man behind him.

Chin looked at the jagged bloody gash that ran from just below his shoulder blade all the way up his back and a threaded needle that his boss was holding in his hand, shuddering inwardly at the idea. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"You did say you wanted to help."

"Right." Chin picked up needle, his normally impassive face creased in uncertainty and alarm. "Are you sure a hospital wouldn't be a better idea? I'm not a doctor, you know."

"No time for those," he bit back, shoulders tensing slightly in anticipation of the pain to come.

"Right," Chin repeated unnecessarily, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he leaned over the wounded man.

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><p>Several agonizingly long minutes later, the Hawaiian straightened to his full height and blew out a shaky breath, placing the bloody needle onto the edge of the sink. As he went to wash Steve's blood off his fingers he risked taking a glance at his "patient". The younger man was still sitting in the same position Chin left him: head bent slightly downward, white-knuckled fingers digging into the porcelain edge before him; his face devoid of color, eyes squeezed tight against the pain.<p>

"Are you doing okay, brah?" the Hawaiian asked, his throat dry with tension and worry.

"J-just… g…ive …me a m…minute," the strained voice was barely audible, and Chin nodded, walking outside wordlessly to give the man some privacy.

"So what's our next move," he inquired, when Steve finally joined him in the living room, a clean shirt on his back, his face still pale but no longer looking like death warmed over.

Instead of a reply, the ex-SEAL placed his hand on his teammate's shoulder. "You did good for not being a doctor," he said, a tight smile on his lips. "Thanks, brah."

Chin was about to respond, when he felt the pressure under Steve's fingers increase suddenly, and before he realized what was happening, the room around him swam in blurred colors that were rapidly swallowed by a thick blanket of darkness.

The task force leader caught his friend, as the latter began falling, easing him gently onto the floor. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered to the unconscious man, "but I can't afford putting any of you in danger."

Exhaling sharply, he did a quick mental check of the arsenal he had tucked away under his clothes and, throwing one last look at Chin, walked out the door.

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><p>"Are you mad at Uncle Steve, Danno?"<p>

They were on their way to his apartment, once the Jersey detective was satisfied that he had pestered the EMTs enough and that Grace was, indeed, fine. His baby girl seemed strangely silent throughout all the poking and prodding and even through most of the trip. At first, Danny chalked it up to her ordeal, which once again provoked a string of silent curses at his disaster of a partner. Grace's question startled him, though, and he glanced in the rearview mirror, frowning at the worried expression he saw on the little girl's face.

Thinking back to his confrontation with Steve, he flinched at the realization that his daughter saw him lose his temper like that and how it must have seemed to her. Shaking his head in remorse, he responded, "No, Monkey. Danno was just a little upset with Uncle Steve, but don't worry about it, okay?" He risked a glance back, sending her a reassuring smile. "Uncle Steve and I will work it all out – everything will be fine." He punctuated his statement with a sharp nod.

Grace observed him silently from the backseat, the same worried, almost haunted look in her big brown eyes. "I think Uncle Steve was hurt, Dad," she said finally, her voice so low that Danny had to strain to hear it.

The blond detective looked up sharply at these words, brows knit in confusion. "What makes you think that?" he ventured, swallowing harshly past a sudden lump in his throat.

The eight-year-old bit her lip nervously, looking down at her lap, as she recalled the terrifying moments. "He… kept me on the floor under the seat when… when it all started and… stayed above me until the noise… stopped." She took a shaky breath, and Danny almost felt sorry that his partner took care of those thugs before he had a chance to lay his hands on them. "And then he… t-told me to stay while he went outside to check…"

The car pulled into the parking lot next to Danny's apartment, and he killed the engine swiftly, turning to look at his daughter. Grace was shaking fully by now, hands clutching nervously at the pleats of her skirt, and Danny wasted no time in jumping over to the backseat and enveloping her in a tight hug. "It's alright, Monkey. Danno's got you. Danno's got you." He heard her sniffle and mumble something against his shirt. Frowning, he loosened his grip somewhat, pulling back so he could see her face. "What did you say?" he prodded gently.

The tear-filled eyes that met his tore at his heart, but her words gripped it in an icy vice. "When he turned to leave… I saw blood on his back." _"His back. Oh God…"_. The Jersey native slapped his hand against his forehead as the earlier scene flashed before his eyes. _"I slammed his back against the fucking truck. Geez…"_ He groaned inwardly, remembering now how pale and tired his partner looked. At the time, he didn't pay any attention to it, but now… _"Of course he was hurt. The idiot can't take a few steps without requiring some form of medical assistance. And I… I only made it worse."_ Suddenly realizing that Grace was talking again, he forced himself to focus on her words.

"I asked him about it when he came back, and he said that he was fine, that it was just a … a graze, but…" She looked pleadingly at her father. "I don't wanna not see Uncle Steve anymore, Daddy. Can we, please, at least check if he's okay?"

Silently cursing his own stupidity, the detective forced himself to smile at his daughter. "You forget I ever said that, Gracie, okay? Danno was just upset and … wasn't really thinking about what he was saying." _"Damn right,"_ he added wordlessly. "Why don't we go inside, Monkey, and I'll call Uncle Steve and see how he's doing? Sound good?"

The girl nodded eagerly, a return smile lighting up her face.

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><p>Five minutes later, a very frustrated detective Williams was unsuccessfully dialing his partner's cell and home phone for the tenth consecutive time.<p>

Eight minutes (and ten more tries later), he was dialing a different number.  
>"Chin," he began, his voice tight with worry that had been steadily magnifying over the past few minutes, "could you check on McGarrett's house for me, please? He's not answering his phone, and Grace's been worried and…" He stopped to take a breath, greatly unsettled by the tense silence that greeted his words.<p>

Then he heard what sounded like a sigh and Chin's familiar voice responded dully, "Steve's not here, brah. Not anymore."

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><p>TBC<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Did I mention how wonderful an audience you, guys, are? Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Your comments mean so much! (I will do my best to respond to everyone, but if I miss someone, please don't think it's because I'm ignoring you or that your post does not matter. Your reviews are what keeps me writing :-)

Disclaimer: I believe I didn't add one earlier, but ... better late than never. The H50's are not mine (sigh).

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

Detective Williams blinked, trying to process his teammate's response. "What do you mean 'anymore'?" he asked finally, afraid of what the answer might be, "What happened?" Silence on the other end stretched a little while longer and Danny's voice rose anxiously, "Chin?"

"Danny," the man groaned quietly in apparent discomfort, "I just came to a few minutes ago. …My head is killing me. So, if you don't mind, …could you, please, go a few decibels lower?"

Williams swallowed nervously and gripped the phone tighter, taking a few jerky breaths in an attempt to calm down. His imagination was already drawing him pictures of another ambush, a bullet-riddled house, Wo Fat's maniacal smile as he drags his unconscious partner away.

"What … happened?" he repeated, quieter this time but with a strained edge to his voice that belied the tension bubbling just under the surface. And in the case of detective Williams, the release of such tension usually rivaled a good-sized volcanic eruption.

There was a small commotion on the other end of the line, and he heard Kono's distant voice asking, "Is that Danny?" and adding after a likely affirmative nod from Chin, "Tell him he's an ass! No, never mind, I'll tell him myself." He could almost picture Chin rolling his eyes at his cousin, as she (most likely) ripped the phone out of his hands.

"Hi Danny," the Rookie began sharply, her voice tight with anger.

"Hey, Kono," the blond detective exhaled. He fully expected her to tear into him and he absolutely deserved it. He just wasn't sure that he could handle a dressing down right now, not when his stomach was all tied in knots. So he spoke hurriedly, hoping that he could avoid at least some of her rant. "Look, I know what you were going to say, and you're right. I acted like a complete idiot. I was –"

"How **could** you?" Kono interrupted sharply, and to Danny that simple question felt like a punch in the gut.

_How __**could **__he, really? _Steve's face once again surfaced in his memory, an anguished, haunted look in his eyes. _His friend, his best friend gets attacked by four of Wo Fat's goons. And what does the great detective Williams do? Does he bother to check if he is okay or say 'thank you' for protecting his daughter? Of course not! Instead he yells at him and flattens an injured man against an EMT truck._ Danny suddenly felt a strong urge to hit something – preferably something solid, preferably hard enough that it would hurt.

"H-how… how bad was he?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Physically or emotionally?" Kono retorted, and Danny winced both at the implication and at her tone. She sounded pissed, and Williams was grateful to have some distance between them.

"Physically," he tried, swallowing harshly.

"His back was a bloody mess last time I saw him. But then you would have known that if you had bothered to check."

Williams cringed again, the slap in her words stinging worse than had she actually hit him. He didn't even attempt to defend himself, he knew he deserved every bit of her anger. So he kept silent, blowing a shaky breath as he waited for her to continue.

The wrath of Kono's next words, however, was not directed at him. "Chin can tell you more. He was, after all, the one who patched him up and let him go on his suicide mission."

"Kono, please," he heard Chin's remorse-filled voice in the background, and suddenly the headache that had been steadily growing behind his eyes turned into a throbbing din of a construction site.

"Can somebody, please, tell me what's going on?" he practically begged, closing his eyes against the pain.

"I'm … not sure," Chin's hesitant voice replaced Kono's on the line. "I came over to stop McGarrett from doing something stupid. And your crazy partner went Vulcan on me."

"He … what?" the Jersey native tried to picture McGarrett with a pair of green pointy ears and wondered briefly if Chin had lost his mind.

"He knocked me out, Danny," the other man grumbled, his voice rough with frustration so uncharacteristic for this normally impassive detective.

"Oh." And as the full ramifications of what Chin just said registered in his brain, he cringed, breathing out a horrified, "Oh, shit…"

"I called Kono, and we've been combing through McGarrett's place ever since, trying to find any clue as to where he might have gone."

"And?"

"Nothing. His cell phone's gone, and so are his weapons."

Danny gritted his teeth, running a frustrated hand through his unruly blond hair. "This can't be happening," he mumbled, too quiet for the other man to hear. _Steve wouldn't be insane enough to go after_ _Wo Fat all by himself, would he? "Of course, he would,"_ the little voice in his head snapped cruelly, _"you know how he feels about his ohana. You practically pushed him to do it."_ His knees suddenly too weak to hold him up, he fell dazedly into a nearby chair, hands pressing tightly against his temples in a vain attempt to stop the intense hammering that went on inside his skull. _"Dear God, what have I done?"_

"Listen, Danny," Chin's voice cut through the suffocating sea of panic and self-loathing, forcing him to focus, "Steve obviously didn't want us involved, but he had to have help tracking down Wo Fat, if that's where he was heading."

Williams straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing sharply. "Who were you thinking?" he asked, grabbing onto Chin's words as a drowning man to a straw. "Kamekona?"

"Doubt it," Chin sounded pretty convinced. "Kono called him earlier. He hasn't talked to Steve and he doesn't know where Wo Fat is."

"If not Kamekona, then who? How would he know where to look?"

There was silence as Kelly considered something, and Danny gritted his teeth to stop himself from snapping at his teammate to hurry him up. "Catherine!" he exclaimed finally.

"Who?" Williams frowned, uncomprehending.

"Catherine Rollins, she's a lieutenant in the Navy, I think."

"McGarrett's girlfriend, I know," Danny snapped impatiently. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"Steve lifted a cell phone off one of their attackers," Chin's voice took on that gentle, placating tone normally reserved for calming down panicky would-be suicide jumpers. "Catherine helped him locate a suspect once using a military recon satellite. Steve could have easily asked her to locate a cell phone…" The Hawaiian let the sentence hang, as if waiting for confirmation from the other end, and Danny didn't hesitate.

"That's good, that's good. That's very good," he bolted from his chair and began pacing up and down the room, trembling with nervous energy. "Okay. Go back to the office and see if you can find the number for Rollins. I'll drop Gracie off at Rachel's and meet you, guys, there." He hung up without waiting for a response and spun around to face his little girl who stood next to his bed during the entire conversation, watching him with wide fearful eyes.

"Come on, Monkey," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "Danno's gonna take you to see your mom."

"Is Uncle Steve okay?" the eight-year-old asked shakily, taking his outstretched hand.

"He will be," Danny replied, putting as much assurance in his voice as he could. "I just need to go help him with some things. Okay?"

A ghost of a smile and a hesitant nod was all the response he got.

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><p>Hidden behind a broken down SUV in front of a mechanic's shop, Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett sat atop his borrowed bike in a pose closely resembling that of Rodin's "Thinker", his eyes riveted to a drab steel structure that slouched innocently amidst a mixture of old ramshackle buildings that cluttered this industrial corner of an otherwise very picturesque area of town. From his vantage point he could safely observe the warehouse without being seen. His mind was filing away details with cool professional calm: a rusted dome-shaped exterior, no windows, wide double doors, a single guard out front. Steve pondered his options. <em>He could disable the guard, open the gates and shoot his way inside. Or…<em> His eyes narrowed as he watched the guard check his watch for the fourth time in the last (Steve spared a quick glance at his wrist) five minutes. _Definitely waiting for someone. Maybe that someone could be his way in._

Less than two minutes later, the Commander saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and a dark sedan with blacked-out windows sailed slowly past his hiding spot, heading for the warehouse. _Bingo._

The guard raced to get the doors open, and Steve exhaled sharply, revving up his bike.

The bike lurched forward, whizzing past the dumbfounded sentry and nearly colliding with the car as it rolled over the threshold. He didn't bother trying to stop. Instead, he dropped the motorcycle, letting it slide out as he rolled away from it, crouching behind a pile of junked car parts, weapons at the ready.

TBC

Next chapter should be much more Steve-centric.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, usual disclaimer (in case I didn't use one before ;-) This chapter came out a little longer, but I needed to get a lot done. Hopefully, you'll like the result.**

**Once again, huge-huge-huge-huge thank you for sticking with this story and for all your wonderful comments! You have no idea how encouraged that makes me feel knowing that you, guys, are reading and like what you read! Thank you! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Steve dove behind a metal pillar, as bullets ripped into the space he occupied only a second ago like a swarm of angry bees, kicking up a sheet of orange sparks. He hissed as a flash of burning pain scorched his back. The back of his shirt felt wet, and Steve knew without even checking that the stitches Chin had put in earlier were now completely torn apart by his latest round of acrobatics.

He shrugged in resignation – nothing he could do about it now – and leaned back against the pillar to check his clips, wincing as his back made contact. _Two bullets left in one clip, one in the other – not much, not much at all._ He did a quick mental recount: _six dead or gravely wounded, two wounded and out of commission (at least for a while). That leaves Wo Fat's mystery guest with one remaining bodyguard, Wo Fat himself and two of his men. Great._ The odds, armament-wise, were definitely not in his favor. Then again, SEALs didn't always rely on weapons to get the job done. _Plus, there was also his "in case of emergency" army knife, strapped securely in its hiding place around his ankle. To hell with odds then._

There was a sudden lull in gunfire, and McGarrett tensed, frowning. In battle such quiet was never a good thing. Cautiously he peeked around the edge of the pillar and cursed loudly at the sight that opened before him. One of Wo Fat's men stood in the center of the warehouse, his knees bent slightly under the weight of an RPG launcher that was aimed with deadly precision at a spot directly above Steve's head. The Navy man threw himself desperately to the side, just as the spot behind him erupted in a ball of fire, hot air singing his skin. The wave of the explosion picked him up, flinging him violently against the wall and pelting his body with sharp pieces of red-hot metal. His weapons torn out of his hands, he hugged the floor, trying as hard as he could not to pass out from the pain. He was only partly aware of two pairs of hands that grabbed him from both sides, hauling him roughly to his feet and dragging him unceremoniously toward a waiting group. Then a brute hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking it viciously upward until he was face-to-face with his nemesis.

The dark slanted eyes swam into his field of vision, sparkling gleefully.

"Hello, Commander."

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

Detective Williams anticipated that things might not go so smoothly with his ex-wife once she finds out the reason why he was giving up his weekend with his daughter. He hoped to approach the subject carefully, though, to prepare the ground, so to speak. He didn't count on his daughter flying out of his car and into her mother's arms, yelling excitedly, "Mommy, mommy, Uncle Steve and I got shot at by bad guys. I was really scared, but Uncle Steve protected me. He's a real hero, mom, like Daddy."

The look Rachel gave him made his heart grow cold.

"Shooting, Danny? Do you involve our daughter in your police business now?"

"Rachel, please," he began hurriedly, his voice shaking with sudden fear, "it's not what you… it… it was an accident. Steve was ambushed after he picked Gracie up from school. He had no way of knowing…"

"_Dear God, am I actually defending him now?"_ Williams swallowed nervously and plowed on.

"Rach, you know I would never put our little girl in danger…" … _"and neither would Steve", _ he stumbled, remembering with sudden clarity the nearly identical words spoken earlier by his partner. _"Karma really is a bitch! Oh, Steven, if only you could see me now…"_

The thought brought with it a sense of urgency.

"Please, Rachel," he pleaded again, a note of despair creeping into his voice, "can we just discuss this later?"

She shook her head in response. "There's nothing to discuss, Danny. This type of thing is precisely why I left you. The violence that followed you at work, that made me wonder if you were going to make it home every night…." She inhaled deeply, shakily. "I will not allow this violence to swallow up our little girl; I simply will not stand for it, Daniel."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, dreading the answer.

She was about to respond, when an electronic version of "Hot Stuff" blared from the phone in his pant pocket, announcing a call from Kono.

"You should really get that, Danny," Rachel spoke with feigned indifference. "Sounds important."

"Rach-"

"Make sure you close the door on your way out." With that she took Grace by the hand and headed out the room.

The blond detective took a shuddering breath, running a nervous hand through his unruly hair. _"I can't do this now. I gotta focus. I'll figure it out later."_

He grabbed the phone. "Yeah, Kono?"

"Hey, Danny," the rookie's voice sounded relieved somehow. "We got the location that Steve inquired about. It's an old warehouse at 900 Queen Street. Chin and I are heading there right now."

Danny nodded approvingly to himself, feeling some of the relief seep into his bones as well. "That's great, guys. I'll… I'll meet you there."

Kono paused, picking up on the tension in his voice. "Is everything alright, Danny?"

"Yeah, no… don't worry about it. I'll see you in a bit." He hung up before she could say anything else.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

"You are really starting to become a nuisance, Commander." Wo Fat's face swam in and out of focus before him, and McGarrett blinked sluggishly, trying to clear his vision. When that didn't work, he tried shaking his head a little. _"Bad idea!"_ His teeth dug viciously into his lower lip, as a sudden spike in pain threatened to pull him under. He took several short, jerky breaths, hoping to ride out the nearly overwhelming wave of nausea. _"Breathe, McGarrett… just … breathe…"_ The agonizing pain began to subside, and Steve slackened the grip of his jaw, gingerly running his tongue through the metallic-tasting liquid that filled his mouth. The pained blue eyes squinted open, attempting to take stock of his predicament. Wo Fat continued talking, but the former SEAL ignored him, focusing instead on the task at hand.

_The whole left side of his body felt as if it were on fire, and, judging by the fact that in some areas the pain escalated with every minute movement, he was fairly certain that at least a few pieces of metal from the exploded pillar have embedded themselves in his body. That was okay, though. A minor problem. His arms and legs seemed relatively unscathed. Which meant he could still move. To hell with pain. Pain is for wussies. _

_Now for his surroundings. He was unarmed. Another minor problem. The two goons that had his arms in a tight grip from both sides could be taken care of easily enough. Then he could get his hands on their weapons and dispose of the mystery guest along with his bodyguard. His parents' killer he will save for last. Now if only he could get his double vision under control…_

An unexpected blow to the side of his head whipped it sideways, and his vision darkened dangerously as pain returned with a vengeance. Fighting to catch his breath, he barely registered Wo Fat's next words.

"You looked like you weren't listening to me there, Commander," the Chinese man admonished mockingly. "How very rude of you! Didn't your mother teach you any manners before her untimely death?"

An angry growl bubbled to the surface before Steve could clamp down on his emotions, and his nemesis cackled in obvious delight. "As I was saying," he went on, clearly enjoying the look of undisguised hatred he saw in the wounded man's eyes, "I wanted to thank you for providing such a perfect opportunity to demonstrate one of our grenade launchers to my esteemed guest." Wo Fat nodded in the direction of his mystery guest, and the latter smiled tightly in acknowledgement.

"_An arms buyer then,"_ Steve noted grimly. _"Well, the world will definitely not be worse off without him."_

"Always a pleasure," he retorted out loud. "Although you really should have saved yourself the trouble. There won't be any arms sale here today."

"Really?" Wo Fat inquired with feigned interest. "And why is that?"

The former Navy Commander flexed his shoulders almost imperceptibly, tensing like a tiger before the jump. "Because none you will be alive to do it."

He wrenched his arms forward with all his might, causing his captors to collide with one another, sending Wo Fat stumbling back. The sudden movement had him at an advantage, and he pulled his arms free, wrapping them instantly around the closest neck. Snap! The goon fell to the floor in a dead heap, and McGarrett had already shifted over to his next target, using a knife-hand strike at his opponent's throat, crushing the windpipe.

He moved quickly, mechanically, like a well-oiled machine. No second thoughts or hesitations. He was on borrowed time, and he knew it. _A moment of hesitation would mean death. And death meant failure. And failure was not an option. Not when his friends lives were at stake._

Ignoring the protests of his aching body, he bent down to one of his fallen attackers, grabbing his weapon and twisting around in one fluid motion, firing even before his eyes were fully on target. The bodyguard managed to get off a shot before Steve's bullet blew his brains out, and the former SEAL cringed as white hot pain erupted in his left leg. He cursed, fighting to keep his balance, his leg nearly giving out from under him. _"Not yet, dammit!" _ He fired again, his aim as sharp as ever, and the arms buyer slumped lifelessly against the side of his own car.

Silence descended on the warehouse, and Steve froze, breathing heavily, his weapon at the ready, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Wo Fat.

They say you never see the bullet that kills you. Perhaps that is true. Steve saw it, though. The tiniest motion behind a weapons crate that grabbed his attention and had him turn at just the right angle. The loud clap that sounded like thunder, followed by another in rapid succession. And just as his arm lifted to take aim, something slammed into his right shoulder, forcing his arm back, the weapon cluttering uselessly to the floor. The second shot exploded just below his ribcage, knocking him to the floor and sending a shockwave of pain through his entire body. He lay there breathless for countless minutes, aware of nothing but pain, as red haze filled his vision.

_He failed them. Failed them all. "I'm so sorry, Danny."_

He felt a shift in the air beside him and forced his eyes to open. A dark figure stood leaning above him, weapon pointed at his head. Wo Fat was cautious, like a man approaching a wounded predator. And Steve allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction that probably rather resembled a grimace.

"Impressive, Commander" the Asian man spoke in the same unnervingly calm manner. "I must say you were a most worthy opponent. But you are truly getting to be a bother." He tsked mockingly, shaking his head, as he observed his enemy's obvious agony. Then, as if deciding that it was not enough, he raised his foot and placed it on top of the SEAL's stomach, pushing down forcefully on the open wound. Steve's body lurched upward, a harrowing cry breaking free from his lips, as pain became a blinding, nauseating torture. His left hand shot forward blindly toward his feet, as if searching for something, while his useless right one pushed weakly against the source of his pain.

Wo Fat smiled a predatory smile, confident in his victory.

"You are like a bad cold that won't go away," he continued gleefully, tightening his finger on the trigger. "It is time to get rid you for good."

"Th…thing 'bout… colds…" the ex-Navy man wheezed, still hunched over his wounded midsection, his forehead pressing against his enemy's leg.

Wo Fat hesitated, as if waiting for him to continue.

A fraction of a second later McGarrett's left hand shot up and Wo Fat's body jerked with sudden impact. A comical expression of surprise twisted his face, as he looked down at the black handle of a Navy knife sticking out from his groin area.

McGarrett's surprisingly clear eyes met his with deadly calmness, just as the former SEAL yanked the blade out with whatever strength he had left. "S-some… c..colds … can k-kill ya…"

Blood sprayed forth from the open wound with a furious force, and McGarrett's would-be killer swayed dangerously, death glazing over his eyes even as his body still stood shakily, before dropping bonelessly to the floor. Once fallen, it convulsed weakly for a few more seconds and then all was still.

The pressure on his wound now relieved, Steve fell backward as well, his tired eyes staring up at a large hole in the rusted ceiling above him. A single white cloud filtered into his vision, lingering a moment, before being pushed onward by the light wind. He blinked slowly, painfully, as his eyes gradually began to lose their focus. _God, he was tired. But it was over. It was finally over. He could rest now. Rest… _

"_Bye, Danny…"_

The blue eyes slid close, as Lt Commander Steve McGarrett finally abandoned his battle to stay conscious.

**TBC**

Okay, let me know what you think. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! I'm sorry if the wait was a bit long. Got a little sidetracked there. Happens :)

The reviews for the last chapter have been absolutely amazing! I don't even know what to say. I'm very-very grateful to all of you (you, guys, are making me blush shy smile). I promise I will try to respond to all of you, and I apologize if the response comes with a bit of a delay.

Now, some of you worried whether Steve was going to make it or not. I hate to say, but I myself am not exactly sure on that account yet. I've been entertaining the not-so-happy ending idea for a while, and I'm not sure how the story is going to go yet. The original idea that I had actually ended the story with the warehouse scene. Obviously, I changed my mind about that and the story has grown longer in my head, but as far as whether or not Steve gets to survive at the end... I don't yet know. See how the story progresses, and maybe you, guys, will help me decide :-)

Again, thanks SO much for reading. Hope you like this chapter (just to warn you, it's a bit gory).

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

Detective Chin Ho Kelly has seen his share of bloody crime scenes over his many years of police work, but he was pretty sure he hasn't witnessed anything like this. The overwhelming smell of burning metal, mixed with that of gunpowder and blood assaulted his senses the moment he stepped inside, and he had a very strong urge to gag. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kono, as she slipped inside cautiously, her gun drawn, stepping carefully over the mangled heap of metal that used to be his bike. He followed, his own weapon at the ready, weaving his way between empty bullet casings and dead bodies that littered the floor near the entrance. There were no sounds, no movement. Only the acrid nauseating smell grew stronger with every step he took, and the loud thumping in his chest echoed like thunder amidst the deathly silence.

Kono's strangled scream pierced the oppressing quiet, and Chin raced over to find her staring in horror at a blood-covered form that lay sprawled and motionless on the ground. His stomach lurched painfully at the sight of all-too familiar cargo pants drenched in dark red liquid, and he walked warily around his cousin, fearful of what he might see. The sight that greeted him would haunt him for as long as he lived. His boss, his friend lay perfectly still on the cold floor before him. Not the tiniest of movements that would have hinted at any sign of life. And then there was the red. Chin could have sworn he had not seen so much red in his life. Not in one place, not on one person. His friend was coated with it from the roots of his hair to the dark-grey cargo pants. It was almost as if the former Navy man had fallen for the old bucket of water on the door trick, except that someone had replaced the water with dark-red paint, covering him with it from head to toe. In a moment of weakness, Chin closed his eyes, trying to escape the horrifying image, but the red persisted, burned into his retina. Gritting his teeth together so hard that it hurt, Chin forced himself to focus. Kono was already on the phone, her voice trembling as she begged the 911 operator to hurry. He dropped to his knees beside his fallen teammate, his shaking hand pressing hopefully, hesitantly against the blood-covered neck, searching for pulse. The Hawaiian nearly cried with relief upon finding a weak and thready beat. "Steve… Steve?" he shook him gently by the shoulder, trying to rouse the unconscious man.

"Is he-?" Kono's trembling voice sounded above his shoulder.

"He's alive," Chin hurried to reassure her. "Though barely…" He glanced briefly at his cousin. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned by her sudden pallor.

She shook her head, her lower lip quivering with emotion she was trying hard to suppress. "It's just… there's so much blood. I thought…."

"N-not… all… m-mine…" a raspy voice broke into their conversation, and the cousins turned as one, their attention riveted to the blood-soaked figure on the floor.

"Steve! Hey, man, good to have you with us." Chin tightened his hold on the younger man's shoulder, more so for his own reassurance. "Next time, though, when I offer you my help, would you mind not knocking me out for it?"

The hooded blue eyes looked at him blankly, not understanding. "S-sorry…" he murmured, uncertain.

Chin frowned, exchanging a worried look with Kono.

"_He doesn't remember?" _his eyes seemed to ask.

"Concussion?" she mouthed back, then squatted down next to her boss, her hands reaching out to gently wipe the still fresh blood from around his eyes.

Steve blinked at her gratefully. "Wo… Fat…?"

The Rookie glanced behind her, suddenly becoming uncomfortably aware of the presence of a dead body so close to her. Her eyes widened, as she took in the waxen face, permanently twisted in an expression of fear and disbelief, and the nauseatingly large pool of blood between the awkwardly frozen legs.

"He's dead," she swallowed harshly, turning back to Steve in time to see a look of relief pass across his face.

"Is that his?" she pointed to the blood on his face.

Steve only blinked in response, too exhausted to talk, his eyes sliding close on their own accord.

"Steve?"

"T-tired…,"he mumbled weakly, and neither cousin missed the small tremor that wracked his body.

"The ambulance is almost here, brah," Chin's face grew dark with worry, as he fought to keep his voice steady. "You hang in there, you hear?"

His plea was met with silence, and it was Kono who jumped in, gripping his blood-stained shirt: "Steve?"

The urgency and fear in her voice were unmistakable, and the unfocused blue eyes fluttered open, flitting between his two teammates.

"'S'okay…," he rasped in a feeble attempt to reassure them. _Last thing he wanted was for them to worry about him. _Then remembering something he whispered, "D-Danno?"

Chin hesitated, and to Steve's feverish mind that brief moment of delay only served to confirm what he already dreaded.

"He's coming, man, don't worry," the Hawaiian spoke hurriedly, troubled by the sudden change in his friend's demeanor. "Probably gonna kick your ass for pulling a crazy stunt like that."

Steve shook his head almost imperceptibly. "'S'okay…," he repeated, closing his eyes again. "I ... m-m'ssed up. … but… 's'alright now…" Another tremor, a stronger one this time, passed through his body, leaving him momentarily breathless. He gasped for air, pain overwhelming his senses, nearly shattering his strenuous hold on consciousness. _He needed to say it, needed to apologize while he still had the chance._ Grabbing on to the last shred of conscious thought, he forced his leaden tongue to move. "It's ... over," he managed, his voice strained and barely audible, "t-tell ... Danny... I'm... s-sorry..."

Chin watched horrified as Steve's body went slack under his fingers.

The screeching of tires and the blare of sirens announced the arrival of the ambulance. Seconds later both he and Kono were pushed aside, as the medics worked frantically on their friend's unresponsive form.

"I'm not getting a pulse!"

"Get the paddles!"

"Charging… Clear!"

"Nothing!"

"Again! … Clear!"

"Still no pulse!"

"Charging to 360! … Clear!"

"I got a rhythm!"

"Great. Keep with him. Let's load him up!"

The cousins moved to follow the stretcher, nearly colliding with the remaining member of the Five-0 task force, who stood frozen in place, staring unblinking at the bloody outline that marked the spot where his partner lied only a moment ago. They didn't know how long he had been standing there, how much he'd seen or heard, but, judging by the look of pure anguish on his unnaturally pale face, he had seen enough.

"Danny?" Kono ventured, reaching for his arm, and he jumped, startled, as if only now becoming aware of their presence.

"I was too late," he murmured to no one in particular.

The haunted blue eyes were filled with so much despair that Kono's heart constricted in pity. "Come on," she said, taking him gently by the hand, "Let's go to the hospital with us. Okay?"

He nodded numbly, letting her lead him toward the exit, past the police officers who began to file into the warehouse. And what worried Kono more than anything else was the dejected silence that clung to this normally garrulous detective like an oppressive cloud. _"God, Steve, you better be okay!"_

TBC

Please review. Pretty please :)_  
><em>


	6. Chapter 6

Felt I needed to throw in a brief author note here before things get too heated :-)

Okay, okay, okay, you've made your point! cowering behind a very large wooden chair LOL! THERE WILL BE NO KILLING OF STEVE. Promise. So please call off the angry posse :-)

Now, I do get a free reign as far as whumpage and angst goes, right?


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, is it safe for me to come out now? :-) LOL Okay, I gave you, guys, a solemn promise, and I want you to keep that promise in mind for later chapters, so you don't go jumping down my throat anymore. Deal? :-)

Seriously, though, I LOVE the reviews, and the favorites, and the alerts. You, guys, are an amazing audience (did I mention that one already?) Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Now, thing to keep in mind before reading this (shorter) chapter is that I am not a doctor nor do I play one on TV. So if there are errors, however blatant (which, I'm sure there would be), please don't judge too harshly. I tried, I researched (I really did), so, hopefully, this chapter won't suck ... too much (keeping my fingers crossed).

Disclaimer: as always, not mine (sigh)

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

_Silence. Two hours, thirty-five minutes and seventeen seconds of tense, agonizing, unbearable silence,_ _broken only by the incessant, monotonous ticking of the clock that hung on the opposite wall, indifferently counting off the interminable minutes of the tortuous suspense of the unknown._

Danny pulled his gaze away from the depressing device and sighed for the nth time.

_He would have loved to drown out the annoying clicking sound. He would have loved to join Chin, who stood motionless by the window, his dark eyes staring unseeing at the black night sky. He would have loved to say something to Kono, who sat crouched in a nearby chair, her slender arms wrapped tightly around her shaking form. But he couldn't. Rationally or not he felt that any action on his part would disturb the waiting standstill, where hope, however small, could still keep its fragile foothold, and bring reality crashing down upon him, a reality that assailed him every time he closed his eyes – the image of Steve giving up. _

_Every time his eyelids lingered over his tired blue eyes, he saw his partner's bloody lips move, forming the words with a haunting finality: "Tell Danny I'm sorry." He couldn't move toward him then. He should have. He should have run up to him the moment he spotted him lying there in a pool of blood. He should have grabbed him, yelled at him for being an idiot with a superhero complex. He should have done something, anything to keep him from slipping away. Instead he froze, unable to do anything but stare as his best friend spoke his final words. "No, not final!" he corrected himself angrily. He couldn't think like that, he just couldn't!_

"_Sorry." Oh, he knew exactly what Steve was talking about when he said that, and that knowledge made the pain in his heart grow stronger still._

_Two hours, forty minutes and two seconds…_

The doors to the operating room swung open, letting out an exhausted-looking surgeon, and the three teammates turned to him instantly, faces taut with hope and trepidation.

"Family of Steve McGarrett?"

They nodded, not trusting themselves to speak, and the doctor pointed to a nearby patient conference room. "I'm Dr. Steinberg. Why don't we sit down in there?"

The three exchanged fearful looks and followed him quietly, dreading the worst.

The doctor sat down across from them, tiredly removing the surgical cap from his graying hair.

"Let me first reassure you that the Commander is alive," he began, smiling softly at the mutual sigh of relief that escaped his anxious listeners. But the news he had to give them were far from positive, and his face turned grim again as he continued. "The bullet wounds in his left leg and right shoulder were both through-and-through. No major arteries were hit in either case, though the shoulder bullet came pretty close. He was lucky there, though."

Dr. Steinberg sighed, shifting in his chair. _Now comes the not-so-positive part._ "We ran into some trouble with the wound in his abdomen. The bullet tore a hole in his stomach and got lodged in the celiac artery. And I suspect that that bullet was actually pushed in further than where it had originally halted."

"Pushed?" Danny's voice sounded hoarse from hours of nonuse.

The doctor nodded grimly. "There was significant bruising on the outside of the wound, which makes me think that something was pressing quite forcefully down on it. Enough to cause additional bleeding."

"The bastard was standing on it…" Chin mumbled in dismay, as the realization hit.

"Who?" Danny blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"Wo Fat," the Hawaiian detective spit out the name with so much animosity that the surgeon frowned, glancing at the dark-eyed man with quite a bit of apprehension. "I thought I saw something that looked like a bloody shoeprint around his wound. I didn't pay much attention to it then, but…" Chin shook his head angrily. "The son of a bitch must have been pushing down on his wound when Steve stabbed him. That's how he got all that blood on him."

A choked cry escaped Kono's lips, and Chin reached out, squeezing her hand in a small gesture of comfort. Danny closed his eyes, clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache and wishing with all his might for Wo Fat to still be alive so he could strangle that piece of scum himself and watch the light go out in his eyes.

"Did you… were you ... were you able to stop the bleeding?" Kono asked hesitantly, and the doctor gave her a half-hearted nod.

"We got him stabilized eventually, but… it was quite a battle, a one-sided one, I might add," Dr. Steinberg added in a weary voice. "We nearly lost him twice."

The three teammates exchanged troubled looks, sickened to their souls by the words the doctor left unspoken: Steve had given up.

"There's more," the doctor leaned forward, the tired grey eyes soft with compassion. "It appears that the Commander was caught in some sort of an explosion. There were pieces of shrapnel embedded in the left side of his body. Most of those pieces were close to the surface, and we managed to remove all of those. However…," Dr. Steinberg took a deep breath before continuing, uncomfortably aware of three worried gazes burning into him, "one of the pieces got lodged very close to his heart, and at the moment I could not risk removing it without endangering the Commander's life."

"Oh, God," Kono gasped, horrified, her hand flying up to her mouth.

"So, what, you just left it in there?" Danny couldn't help the sudden significant rise in his voice, ignoring the slight wince from the surgeon. "Isn't that **also** endangering his life?"

The latter shook his head regretfully. He saw the outburst for what it was – a concern for the man's friend, but he also needed to make himself understood. When he spoke again, his voice was just as calm as it had been before but now it held a note of urgency. "The Commander lost too much blood. He's extremely weak and in my professional opinion he would not survive another major surgery at this point."

"S-so what do we do now?" Danny inquired, trying to keep his voice steady, as he clenched and unclenched his suddenly clammy hands.

"We wait. Once he is stronger, we'll go in after that fragment."

"What about complications?" Chin cut in, wrapping his arm protectively around his cousin's trembling shoulders. "If it's that close to his heart, what if –?"

"We'll be monitoring him for any sign of trouble," Dr. Steinberg assured. "I am hopeful that the shrapnel will stay in place, provided that the Commander doesn't make any sudden moves. Given his current condition, though, I don't foresee that being a problem. With any luck, if his condition improves, we'll go in and operate." The doctor winced sympathetically. "I won't lie to you, this is a very serious situation, and I wish I had better news to give you. But right now the very fact that Commander McGarrett is alive after what he's been through is a miracle." He stood up slowly, getting ready to leave. "Normally, I would say to the family to go home and get some rest, since the patient won't be waking up for quite some time. But, in this case, I think the Commander would benefit from having his support network around… if you're not too tired." He looked at them questioningly, gratified to see ready nods of approval from all three. "Good," he nodded. "You'll be able to visit him in the ICU shortly. I'll have the nurse call you as soon as he's ready."

TBC

I told you I wasn't done whumping (and am not quite done yet :-)


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know it's been a while, and I apologize (no pitchforks please :-). Real life's been getting a little more hectic lately, and my updates may not always come quickly, but I will try (I promise).

I haven't been able to respond to all of you, but you, guys, have been so wonderful with your comments and all those favorites and alerts - you're making me all giddy and tingly :-) Thank you so, so much! I sincerely hope I won't disappoint.

This chapter is mainly Danny angst with a bit of Kono and Chin. More Steve angst and more Danny drama coming up (and more whumpage, of course ;-)

As always, hope you enjoy it, and please review if you can (and I'll try my best to respond :)

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

_What is your favorite color?_ One of the most commonly asked question in any personality quiz – whether one floating in the great open spaces of the world wide web, or one written by hand on a Disney Princess themed paper, slipped to you in big secret by your eight-year-old daughter. Danny Williams never really thought about that kind of stuff before. _Green, orange, yellow, orangey-grey pink with polka dots – who cares? _But today Danny learned something about himself. While he still had no idea which color he preferred over the others, he was now pretty certain that there were two that he absolutely abhorred. The color red: from the dark burgundy of dried blood to the bright crimson of a freshly oozing wound. And the color white: from the cold alabaster of the bare hospital walls and the crispy snow of its sheets to the ghostly pale of his friend's skin.

The nurse quietly closed the curtain, giving them privacy, and Danny, feeling suddenly ill from the omnipresent smothering whiteness, leaned forward, desperately grabbing hold of the rail at the foot of Steve's bed. Danny's eyes slid over the starkly white bandages, the breathing tube, the wires that snaked around his friend's neck, chest and arms, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, sharply, painfully, unable to take in any more. He felt a hand on his shoulder and mustered a silent nod to Chin's unspoken "hang in there, brah." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kono, as she moved silently toward his partner's still form and sat cautiously on the edge of the bed near him, careful of the surrounding wires.

Gently taking Steve's unnaturally white hand into her trembling ones, she whispered, "Hey, Boss. It's Kono. Just wanted to let you know that we're all here for you – me, and Chin, and Danny… We're all waiting for you to wake up." She sniffled, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "We really need you to wake up." Smiling through unshed tears, she leaned over the bed, placing a soft quick kiss on Steve's forehead. "Please." She stood up quickly, her tear-filled eyes seeking out her cousin with almost childlike despair. And Chin crossed the few steps that separated them in a heartbeat, wrapping her in a tight, comforting embrace.

"I gotta get out of here," Kono muttered against her cousin's shoulder. "I need-"

"Go, it's okay," Chin assured her calmly. "I'll be right out." He pulled her away, and she nodded tearfully, wiping an unsteady hand across her eyes.

The older Hawaiian watched pensively, as she slipped out, disappearing behind the curtain, and then turned back to the unconscious man in bed. For a moment he didn't say anything, just stood there, face lined with worry, as he watched the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest. "You got yourself into quite a mess, McGarrett," he shook his head grimly, stealing a quick glance at Danny, who still stood hunched over the bedrail, pale as the sheet that covered the ex-SEAL. "You've got my cousin in tears. Your partner is a wreck. And you owe **me** a new bike." A pained expression twisted his face - his attempt at levity shattered into pieces against the deathly silence of his conversation partner. "E ola, hoapili," he whispered hoarsely and walked out, leaving Danny alone with Steve and the private hell of his own demons.

Williams remained in the same position for what seemed like eternity, not trusting his legs enough to let go of the rail. He never expected the worry for the well-being of his crazy, reckless, throw-a-grenade-first-ask-questions-later lunatic of a partner to affect him so much. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the shaky legs, the clammy hands, the rabidly beating heart, the tautness in every muscle in his body to the point where he fears that they would rupture – these were all the symptoms that the New Jersey native has already experienced once, when his little girl had to undergo emergency surgery for suppurative appendicitis. Grace was four at the time, and Danny was pretty sure that he stopped breathing the moment his baby was whisked away in an ambulance, and didn't start again until the doctor told him that his little girl was fine. _Since when did Steve begin to mean this much to him?_ Danny shook his head and pushed himself forward, plopping into a chair next to his partner's bed. "You're killing me, man," he sighed, running a tired hand over his face, "You're absolutely fucking killing me." He reached out, placing his hand over McGarrett's and squeezing it lightly. "I hope that somewhere in there there's a little part of you that can hear me, because what I gotta say is real important." Williams blew out a shaky breath, his lips twisting with worry. "In what little time I've known you, you've managed to get me in more trouble than in all the years I've been a cop in Jersey. Which is saying a lot, believe me, 'cause I've seen some crazy shit in Jersey. But you, my friend, definitely take the cake. I mean, what normal person gets his partner shot and thrown through the window on the first day? My life flashes before my eyes every time I get in the car with you. And I pray, I actually pray that I get home in one piece so I could see my daughter, who is actually the reason that I came to this pineapple hellhole in the first place, if you care to remember." Danny took another breath, out of sheer necessity this time, and threw an exasperated, almost angry look at the heart monitor that continued its steady disinterested beating, indicating no reaction whatsoever to his words. "The point I'm trying to make is… I've… you've… for all that crazy stuff, you've also gotten to be the only person apart from Gracie that made me feel welcome in this volcanic dump. And even though I risk getting killed every time I'm with you, you really are a great partner and," Danny swallowed thickly, pushing down an uncomfortable lump burning his throat, "a g… a good friend… best one a guy could have." He closed his eyes, curling his lips inward as he once again attempted to collect himself. "I lost sight of that fact today, and because of that… because of my stupidity and your idiocy you have nearly gotten yourself killed." Danny stood up and leaned forward until his face was hovering only inches above Steve's. "I know how your twisted mind works, McGarrett. You went all super ninja because you thought you owed it to me, and now you think your job's done and you got nothing left to do. I heard your freaking farewell spiel at the warehouse, and I know the doctor thinks you've pretty much given up. But that's not gonna fly, McGarrett. You hear me? I need you fight, dammit. I need you to pull through so I can personally kick your ass so hard for being such an imbecile that you end up right back in a hospital bed. And I know you're the big bad Super SEAL and all, but this is the great Danny Williams that's speaking to you, the terror of Jersey punks and crime bosses. And, believe me, when I get through with you, you're gonna be so well-trained, you're not even gonna go to a crapper without thinking of calling for backup."

All his steam spent, Danny fell back into his chair, his hand running nervously across the stubble that covered his jaw. Throwing another hopeful glance at his partner's expressionless face, he blinked disappointed, and settled in for the long wait.

TBC

_E ola, hoapili_ - hopefully means "get well, my friend". Just in case, I apologize if I messed it up :-)


	9. Chapter 9

You know I always think it's a good idea to refresh your memory a bit when you're writing the characters. To watch an episode or so, see them interact, note the little gestures, etc. Problem is, I keep missing the H50 reruns lately 'cause while I'm trying to put my kids to bed I fall asleep right along with them (sleep deprivation anyone?). So I've pretty much resorted to watching all re-runs of H50 (along with Moonlight) on a Russian website. Upside: I get to choose which episodes to watch and when. Downside: all the shows have Russian voice-overs - not really a problem for me, since it's my native language, but it would have been nice to be able to hear the original voices for more than a few seconds at a time in the background.

Where am I going with this (yes, there is a point to these ramblings ;-) I was thinking that I shouldn't be selfish and keep such knowledge to myself and that some of you, guys, might also be interested in having a 24-hour access to H50 (and Moonlight, and Three Rivers is also on there, I believe). Yes, it's all in Russian, but you can hear the original English a little bit, plus I'm sure you're all familiar enough with the shows that you won't have a problem understanding what's going on. So, if you, guys, want, I can give you the link to the website along with the explanations on where to click once you get there. Drop me a PM if you want it or you could just throw your request in at the end of a review (hint, hint :-)

Thank you for the TOTALLY AWESOME REVIEWS by the way! You, guys, rock!

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

Dr. John Steinberg was not the least bit surprised when, while making his rounds at four in the morning, he saw three bone-tired detectives dozing in the less than uncomfortable chairs that they set up like a protective barrier of sorts around McGarrett's bed. Weary quiet reigned in the room, interrupted only by the monotonous beeping of the cardiac monitor and the gentle whooshing of the ventilator.

The doctor moved further into the room, trying not to disturb their sleep, however uncomfortable. _Lord knows they needed it… badly._ He checked the monitors, his face brightening a little, when a deep voice, rough and husky from sleep, interrupted him, "How's he doing, doc?"

"Much better than before," Dr. Steinberg smiled at the bleary-eyed detective _(Detective Kelly was it?)_. "His vitals are stronger, his color is improving. And it looks like he might soon be ready to breathe on his own."

The dark-haired detective let out a deep breath, relief almost palpable in his body language. Pushing himself up and away from the cramped plastic contraption, the tall Hawaiian approached the bed, cringing, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Has his… is the… the wound on his back, how is it?" he sighed, seemingly embarrassed by his own rambling.

The doctor watched him curiously, surprised by the sudden nervousness he detected in the man's voice.

"I was just about to check on it, actually," he responded, gently lifting the edge of the bandage that came up his back, making a half-loop around his shoulder. He replaced the gauze carefully, his eyebrows furrowing in a frown. "Still looks a bit inflamed," he supplied, making a quick note on his pad. "I will have the nurse redress the wound, and we might need to up his antibiotics as well."

"It's infected?" the Hawaiian swallowed nervously, something oddly resembling guilt flashing in his dark eyes.

"Well, the wound looks like it's been treated before … just not very professionally," Dr. Steinberg studied the other man's face as he spoke. "The stitches that were put in allowed for some partial healing, but once they were torn, the injury, unfortunately, was aggravated. An infection most likely happened upon reinjury, although I have no way of knowing if the wound was initially properly cleaned or not…" he trailed off, head cocked slightly to the side, as he watched the emotions play across the detective's face.

"Alcohol," the latter ground out hoarsely, "I used alcohol."

"_Ah…"_ The doctor nodded to himself and leaned slightly forward, trying to catch the other man's eyes. "We will take care of it, Detective, don't worry. And you shouldn't feel guilty either. From the looks of it, you did a better job than some of my first-year medical interns." He patted the man encouragingly on the shoulder. "I'll get the nurses in to change the Commander's dressing. You should probably try and get some more sleep before your friend wakes up."

And he walked out, leaving the other man frowning thoughtfully after him.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

The plastic chair squeaked mournfully when Chin shifted his weight, trying in vain to achieve at least some level of comfort, as he watched two nurses gently and quietly maneuver Steve's body so they could get access to the bandaged wound on his back. The sound echoed sharply in the white stillness, jarring his two friends from their uneasy slumber. Danny jumped in his seat, his alarmed gaze flicking over the two nurses leaning over the still form of his friend.

"What's going on?" he asked gruffly, moving to get up.

Chin's hand stopped him. "It's alright," he assured him, concealing his own disquiet and guilt behind a mask of his usual stoicism. "They're just changing the dressing on his back."

Williams turned to him sharply, his pale blue eyes boring into Chin's dark ones, and for a moment Kelly felt certain that the smaller detective could read every single guilt-ridden thought that rattled around in his tired brain. _"Infection. He's trying to combat a god-damn infection on top of all of his other injuries. An infection that could have been avoided if I had insisted on, no, check that, physically hauled him to the nearest hospital. Hell, this whole damned situation could have been avoided."_ He ground his teeth, forcing the unpleasant thoughts deeper into the back of his mind, as he realized that Danny was asking him something.

"Has the doctor been by yet?"

Chin nodded in the affirmative, moving his gaze back to the nurses, who had just finished affixing the new bandage and were now carefully easing the unconscious man onto his back.

"He's doing better," the Hawaiian reported, a tense, hopeful smile finding its way onto his lips. "The doctor seems to think he might be waking up soon."

"He is!" Kono, who had slipped out of her chair during their conversation and shuffled closer to the bed, did not miss the slight flutter of Steve's eyelids, and her excited cry brought her two teammates rushing over.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

Pain was the first thing that greeted his return to consciousness. It came rolling in vicious, burning waves, flooding his senses until agony was the only thing he was aware of. He screamed, or, rather he tried to. Something was shoved deep inside his throat, pushing painfully against the walls, robbing him of sound. The blue eyes flew open in panic, meeting a cacophony of blurry faces and muffled sounds.

"It's alright, Commander," a soft voice explained calmly. "You're in a hospital. You have a breathing tube in your throat that is preventing you from speaking. I will take it out momentarily." A blurry dark-haired shape leaned over him, and he blinked slowly, squinting as an unfamiliar face came into focus. His muddled brain tried to process the information. _"Hospital? Not dead?" _

"Do you understand, Commander?" the woman above him _(a nurse?)_ insisted.

He tried nodding, but quickly reconsidered as pain accompanied the movement. Blinking seemed safer, so that's what he did.

"Good." The woman nodded to someone that was off to the side and once again turned her attention to Steve. She had kind eyes, Steve noted absently, warm and soothing. She reached for his face, and he felt tape being pulled gently away. "Commander?" Those soothing eyes settled on his again, willing for him to listen. "I'm going to need you to take a deep breath for me and cough."

Another blink, and Steve did as he was told. The foreign object was pulled out almost instantly, irritating his already dry throat and leaving him gagging for breath. An oxygen mask appeared above him, but Steve saw something out of the corner of his eye, and he moved his head away from the life-saving oxygen.

_Kono? Chin?_ _The warehouse… they were at the warehouse…_ He remembered seeing them there. _Was that a dream? Why were they at the hospital? Did Wo Fat get to them too?_ Panicked now, he attempted to speak. His mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was a soul-racking cough that had him gasping in pain. The mask was moved toward his face again, but he wriggled away from it stubbornly, clenching his jaws to ride out the episode. _He needed to know._

"Y-you… 'k-kay?" he ground out breathlessly, once the fire in his chest subsided.

"You are un-freaking believable, you know that?" a familiar voice exploded above him, and Steve squinted upwards, a frown of disbelief crossing his features.

"D-no…?"

"You barge into a warehouse chockfull of the upstanding members of the Yakuza brotherhood with what was very likely a grenade between your teeth and a cartridge belt tied around your waist. Your friends find you half-, no, check that, three quarters-dead in the middle of a blood bath that put the best horror movies to shame. Frankly, I don't think Hollywood even has enough fake blood to recreate the quote-unquote Queens Warehouse Massacre. And you have the gall to ask if **we** are okay?" The wildly gesticulating hands froze in bewilderment and confusion. "Is that… Are you… Are you freaking smiling at me?"

Steve couldn't help it. He knew he must have looked ridiculous, grinning stupidly as much as his chapped lips allowed, but he didn't care. "You're… here…" he rasped, feeling somehow elated despite the nauseating pain.

Danny stiffened, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashing in his pale blue eyes, before he looked away briefly, swallowing harshly against a sudden uncomfortable lump in his throat. "Let the poor nurse put the oxygen mask on you, Steven," he snapped hoarsely, trying to hide his discomfort.

And Steve complied. He was too tired to resist anyway. But as his eyes began sliding close under the irresistible pull of sleep, he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder and Danny's voice whispered in his ear, "Always, babe. I'll be here always."

TBC

I tried for a little comfort here. What do you think? Too much?


	10. Chapter 10

Phew, another chapter. I know you, guys, liked the comfort, but how could I possibly stay away from more whumping. Not too much this time, though :-) And Danny's right there, so... :-)

Thank you for the totally awesome reviews and all the faves and alerts! You are the biggest inspiration a gal could have!

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

The room was quiet once again, the lights dimmed to allow for a more comfortable sleep. Chin and Kono left soon after McGarrett had fallen asleep, leaving Danny to keep a solitary vigil at his bedside. They would be by to relieve him later – once they had a chance to freshen up, change out of the clothes that were still stained with Steve's blood and give their statements to HPD. But for now, Danny settled back into the chair that, in his opinion, closely resembled a medieval torture device and watched McGarrett sleep, his mind replaying the events of five minutes ago like a sadistic broken record.

Rants were always his way of coping. Whenever he was scared, or nervous, or upset, he would erupt into a ceaseless stream of rambling, smart-alecky lines that kept him from confronting the inevitable for at least as long as he could keep those rants going (and he managed to break some impressive records with those). Of all the potentially nervousness-inducing situations, facing an awake Steve was pretty high on the anxiety level. Knowing the hurt he had caused his partner, Danny dreaded the reaction he would get from McGarrett now that it was all over. He expected hurt, anger, hatred, avoidance. So when Steve's head turned toward them, and Williams felt his heartbeat rev up like the engine of a newly-purchased Ferrari, his mouth began spilling forth sentences before his brain had even had a chance to register what he was saying.

But what he saw in his friend's eyes was something he never expected – it was the look of such unspeakable relief and pure, childlike joy that for the first time in a long time Danny found himself actually lost for words in the middle of a well steamed-up rant. And the timid, fearful hope that he heard in Steve's voice was almost his undoing. In a way, Danny was glad that McGarrett fell asleep so soon after. If the Super SEAL had glimpsed the sight of moisture that glistened in the blond detective's eyes, Danny would never be able to live it down.

The short detective ran his thumb and forefinger along the corners of his mouth and let out a deep sigh.

"Why is it that when I finally think that I have you figured out you go and do something that throws all my theories (carefully and methodically constructed ones, mind you) down the toilet?" He shook his head, placing a hand gingerly on the Navy man's shoulder. _Did Steve's skin feel a bit warmer than usual or was it just his tired imagination at work?_ He shrugged, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn. "You and I are going to have a long talk when you wake up," he promised, leaning back into his chair and stretching his legs out to assume a more horizontal position. He was sound asleep before he knew it.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

No matter how deep your sleep is, certain things have a way of cutting through the fog of dreams and forcibly pulling your mind back into reality. Like the insistent ringing of a phone or a door bell, or the frightened crying of your child woken up by a nightmare. Your brain responds sluggishly at first, unwilling to abandon the warm, languid comfort, slowly allowing you to becoming aware of the world around you. And you regretfully push yourself out of bed, even as the last tendrils of sleep are clinging to your conscious mind, beckoning for you to return.

When something initially intruded on Danny's oblivious slumber, his brain was too exhausted to make note, ignoring the unwelcome invasion of its repose in the hopes that whatever it was would go away. Yet the intruder remained, flapping about in his head like a bird caught in a lace curtain, the urgency of its call for help growing in intensity every second. The blanket of sleep pushed back a bit under the relentless assault, Danny's brain was finally able to register the sound that was bothering it all this time – a small, plaintive whimper like that of a child.

"Gracie?" Danny pried his eyes open, blinking uncomprehendingly at the whitewashed walls. _This wasn't his apartment. And Grace wasn't staying with him today, was she? _ The strange sound reached his ears once again, and Williams sat up straighter in his chair, rubbing his eyes vigorously before daring to open them again. The bleary form of his partner came into focus, and as Danny took in his appearance, the last remnants of sleep disintegrated into fear. The pallor from before had been replaced by an unhealthy flush; sweat-damp hair clung to his forehead, drops of moisture trickling down the side of his face. He shifted abruptly, a moan escaping his lips muffled by the oxygen mask, his uninjured hand flailed about, as if trying to capture something or someone.

The Jersey native was out of his seat in an instant, placing both his hands on the injured man to stop him from moving. "Steve? Steve! Dammit, Steve, wake up! You're gonna hurt yourself!" He cringed, feeling the heat radiate from him. _Fever, damn. I should have caught it sooner. _

McGarrett twisted in his grasp, the blue eyes snapping open, staring in horror at some point beyond Danny's head, an anguished cry ripping from his dry throat: "Lennie, nooooooo!"

Thoroughly frightened now, the blond detective hit the nurse call button and clasped his friend's face between his hands, forcing his unfocussed gaze toward him. "Steven, Steve. Look at me, please. It's Danno. You're in the hospital. You're safe. Steve?"

The feverish blue eyes connected with his, and Danny was taken aback by the raw agony he saw in their depths.

"Dan-no?"

"That's it, babe, that's it. It was just a dream," Danny assured him, worry making his voice tremble ever so slightly. _"And whatever the hell that dream was, you better believe your ass I'm gonna ask you about it," _he promised silently.

He felt a movement behind him, and, keeping his hand on McGarrett's good shoulder for their mutual reassurance, he turned slightly, barking at the incoming nurse: "He's burning up! Do something!"

The young woman _(Amy was her name?)_ rushed over. A quick temperature reading told her what Danny already knew – Steve had a fever, and, judging by the frown on nurse Amy's face, it was a bad one. Her frown deepened as she peeked under the bandage on his back, and she looked up, her eyes meeting Danny's.

"I'll get the doctor."

"What? What is it? What's going on?" Williams was in full-blown panic mode now, his hand tightening unconsciously around his partner's shoulder.

"His infection appears to have gotten worse," the nurse explained hurriedly, already moving toward the exit. "The antibiotic does not appear to be working. Dr. Steinberg may wish to switch to a different one. I'll get him shortly."

She walked out briskly, and Danny turned back to his friend who had already slipped into a restless slumber. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at the man before him. "You never do anything in halves, do you Steven?" His eyes darkened in sympathy at the lines of pain that twisted his friend's features even in his sleep. He looked so vulnerable, so childlike at that moment. And Danny's heart constricted painfully, part of him wishing he could just scoop his partner up in his arms, like he did with Grace whenever she was hurt or upset, and make all of his pain disappear.

Running his hand through his already impossibly tousled hair in frustration, he turned toward the door just in time to see the doctor hurry in, followed by a nurse.

Fisted hands shoved deep into his pockets, he stood back and watched as they redressed his partner's back, cringing as he caught sight of the angry, swollen red skin under the bandage. The doctor was wearing the same frown that he saw on nurse Amy's face earlier, and Danny didn't like it – not one bit.

"What's wrong?" he inquired a bit harsher than intended, frustration getting the better of him.

Dr. Steinberg raised his head toward him. "It's a setback," he replied grimly, his own frustration seeping into his voice. "I was hoping the Commander was already on the mend, so I could proceed with the final surgery as quickly as possible. The longer we delay, the more chances there are that the shrapnel could shift." The doctor glanced at his nurse, who was injecting something into McGarrett's IV bag. "I'm switching him to a stronger antibiotic," he explained at Danny's questioning look. "Let's hope it does its job. And quickly."

Danny watched the medication drip slowly into the IV line and struggled to swallow against his suddenly dry throat. He didn't watch the doctor leave, he didn't care. His friend had a time bomb in his chest. And the doctor basically just told him that the countdown has sped up, while the bomb squad has been delayed. _"Dammit, Steven. Why can't you do anything like a normal person?"_

He plopped back into his chair, his hand reaching for Steve's hot and clammy one and clasping it almost desperately. "Come on, McGarrett. Help me out here. You gotta fight this, man. Don't make me sing Bon Jovi to you. 'Cause, you know, you **really** don't wanna hear me sing – just ask Gracie. And I know for a **fact** that you don't wanna hear me sing Bon Jovi," he stopped short, the mocking threat sounding hollow. Squeezing Steve's hand tighter, he tried again, pleading, "Fight it … fight dammit!"

His phone vibrated suddenly in his pocket, and Danny jumped in surprise, frowning as he pulled out the device. His frown deepened when he saw the name on the caller ID. _Rachel._

TBC

Hmm, what could Rachel possibly be calling about?_  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry for the wait. I have excuses (not all of them good ones :-).

This is a purely Danny-centric chapter, and I can't say that I'm happy with the way I've written him here. Hopefully, I'm not too off-character. There were just some things that I needed to set up, and... well, you'll see :-) I'm also trying to make Rachel a bit more sympathetic, although that is probably not too apparent in this chapter (lol).

I do anxiously await your comments!

Disclaimer: I don't always remember to say it, but ... (sigh) they're not mine.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

"_Apprehension. Unease. Dread." _

"_Things that make you queasy."_

"_No."_

"_Things that will make your hair fall out prematurely."_

"_No."_

"_Things you feel when McGarrett gets behind the wheel of your car."_

"_No. Well, technically yes, but not for the purpose of this Pyramid."_

"_Things you feel when your ex-wife calls you to discuss something important in private."_

"_Bingo!"_

Danny Williams was definitely experiences all of those unpleasant feelings as he was driving toward the sidewalk café where Rachel told him to meet her. Those feelings increased exponentially, forming into a sharp knot in his stomach, when he spotted his ex sitting next to the man he'd so eloquently dubbed "Lord Vader".

"Daniel," Rachel nodded, waving him to a nearby chair.

"Hello, Rachel. I see you've brought your pet shark with you," the snide comment spilling past his lips before he could stop himself.

"Why don't you take a seat, Mr. Williams," 'Lord Vader' offered coolly, the slight flare of the nostrils of his hawk nose - the only indication of his annoyance.

Danny eased himself into a chair across from his ex-wife, feeling very much like he did when he got called into his high school principal's office for clobbering Johnny Taylor on the head with the guy's own backpack in the middle of an English lesson. Granted, Taylor totally deserved it for being such a jerk toward him, but in hindsight, Danny should have probably waited until the lesson was over before walking over to Taylor's desk in front of the dumbfounded teacher and making good on his threat to shut his annoying classmate up if he was unable to do so on his own. Danny got off easy back then – only a week's suspension.

Somehow, he had a strong suspicion that whatever these two had in store for him, it was going to be much worse.

Rachel avoided his searching gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the bottom of her coffee cup, and the lawyer, having thrown a few inquiring and somewhat desperate looks her way, jumped in with a resigned sigh.

"Mrs. Edwards has relayed to me her concern with regards to her daughter's safety," he began, coughing uncomfortably under Danny's withering stare. But the detective quickly turned his gaze back to his ex-wife, and the lawyer continued cautiously, "Mrs. Edwards was adamant that she did not wish for you to lose your visitation rights altogether," (Danny snorted at that), "However, in light of the recent events, Mr. and Mrs. Edwards have decided that it would be in Grace's best interest to have additional supervision during her visits with you, as well as some restrictions with regards to your activities during those times." 'Lord Vader' swallowed convulsively, noting the two white-knuckled fists that gripped the edge of the cloth-covered table.

"You care to explain those new terms to me, Your Darkness?" Danny's voice was deceptively calm, his eyes never leaving Rachel's lowered head.

The lawyer winced at the implication, frustrated by his client's continuing refusal to speak. _Has she suddenly lost her nerve? _"Mrs. Edwards feels that it will be safer for her daughter to have a third party present during your visits."

"Third party."

"Yes. Someone with Grace's safety in mind, who could-"

"Excuse me," Danny interrupted, no longer able to restrain himself, "Grace's **safety**? Her **SAFETY**? You don't think I have my daughter's safety in mind every single minute of every day?"

"I think that having your daughter be involved in a shootout qualifies as a safe pastime," Rachel retorted, finally meeting Danny's furious stare. "I saw the news, Daniel," she pushed on, her voice stronger now, "I saw what was left of your partner's car – the car that **your little girl** was riding in."

"_You didn't see it up close,"_ the thought came unbidden, and Danny shook his head, trying to get rid of the image.

"I don't want Gracie exposed to those kinds of things." There was something so final, so accusatory in Rachel's tone, that the Jersey detective felt anger swell up within him with renewed force.

"**Those** kinds of things? Are **those **kinds of things different from having a gun pulled on my daughter by your husband's **business associates**?" he spat out the words, ignoring the perplexed stares that the volume of his tirade was now beginning to attract from the neighboring tables. "Or have you already forgotten about that? Step-Stan can do no wrong?"

"That was a singular occurrence, Daniel," the brunette cringed visibly at the reminder.

"Unlike in my case where she's constantly ducking under a hail of bullets, you mean."

"This is certainly not the first time it happened," Rachel countered.

"Mr. Williams," the lawyer jumped in again, "you have to admit that yours is a particularly dangerous line of work. You team is in the news nearly every week with yet another bloody takedown. And, unfortunately," he held up a hand, precluding the Jersey native's argument, "your work often quite literally follows you home, which puts the lives of everyone close to you in danger. This latest incident only confirms this." 'Lord Vader' exchanged a quick glance with his client, a tight smile gracing his lips at her silent nod. Bolstered by her approval, the lawyer straightened in his seat and continued with an air of grave importance. "I have submitted a request for modifications to the custody agreement on Mrs. Edwards' behalf," he announced, watching the detective's face with a fair amount of caution. "As I mentioned earlier, we are requesting that all your visits take place under third-party supervision. We are also requesting that you be limited as to the number of places where you can take your daughter."

"For instance," Danny ground out, feeling as though his head were about to explode.

"For instance, Mrs. Edwards does not feel that your daughter is safe when she is around your teammates, more specifically, your partner Commander McGarrett, and she is requesting that Grace not be allowed to go to places where she might come in contact with those individuals."

Danny closed his eyes, exhaling noisily. For a brief moment he pictured himself choking the living daylights out of that smug bastard of a lawyer, and his fingers actually twitched in response, curling in on themselves as if wrapping themselves around an invisible throat.

When he looked up again, his pale blue eyes bored into Rachel's with such intensity that had the woman been made of actual ice, she would have melted on the spot. As it was, she blinked nervously, shrinking slightly back against her chair.

"The **individuals **on my team," Danny's finger jammed painfully into the cloth-covered tabletop, "are the most honest, decent and caring people I know. They have **never** nor **would** they ever do **anything** to cause harm to my daughter."

"You cannot honestly believe that after what happened a few days ago. Your partner-"

"No?" Danny whirled in his seat, for the first time directing his anger straight at the attorney. "'Cause the way I see it, my **partner** protected my little girl at the expense of his own safety. Did you know that, by the way, Rachel?" he once again turned to his ex. "Did you know that Steve used himself as a shield to protect our daughter?"

The British woman swallowed nervously at this revelation. "Danny, I-"

"I will fight you on this, Rachel," he swore, anger and frustration straining his nerves, already raw from the harrowing tension of the last couple of days. "I will not let you destroy my relationship with my daughter. And I will be damned if I let you cut my friends out of her life!"

"Mr. Williams," the lawyer chimed in again, his tone one of caution, "I would not be so combative if I were you. I do not believe that you will have the necessary leverage to stop any action on our part this time around."

"What… in hell… are you… talking… about?" The detective's hands flew in the air, their sharp movements punctuating every word.

"What I mean," 'Lord Vader' pursed his lips slightly, a look of condescending disdain crossing his features, "is that Mr. Edwards is no longer involved in any projects that require the approval of the Governor of Hawaii."

Danny barked out an angry laugh, earning himself dual stares of disquietude and confusion. "You think I did that?" He pulled himself up and placed both hands on the table, leaning toward his ex-wife. "You know me better than that, Rachel. You know I don't ask other people to fight my battles for me. My partner did that. My partner!" He raised his fist in the air, slamming it back down with such force that the two coffee cups jumped in their saucers, landing back down with a pitiful clink. "My partner knew how much Grace means to me, and he did what he could to stop me from losing her. And now that same partner is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life – all because he wanted to make sure that the bastard that was responsible for that attack a few days ago would not be around to threaten mine or my daughter's safety ever again."

He pulled back, suddenly exhausted. "So you can tell Stan not to worry – I won't be unleashing the Governor on him." The blue eyes hardened, narrowing on the brunette's face. "But you better be sure that I will fight you on this – tooth and nail. My way!"

His phone beeped urgently, and he pulled it out, finding a message from Kono: "Steve's awake." He almost smiled in relief. _"First good news I got today."_

"I have to go," he threw over his shoulder and left brusquely, not even bothering to look back.

He didn't see the slight trembling of Rachel's hand as she raised it to cover her mouth, nor the haunted look in her dark brown eyes.

TBC

Please review. Pretty please? :)


	12. Chapter 12

Happy 4th of July everyone! This was the long weekend, and I kind of promised I'd try and get the next chapter out a bit sooner. So, here it is ;-)

I apologize that I haven't yet caught up in answering everyone's reviews. I am all set to try to do that tomorrow (after I get some much-needed sleep :-) I appreciate you, guys, so much! Every time I find a notification of a review or a fav in my mailbox, it brightens up my whole day. Thank you so much!

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><p>Chapter 11<p>

Steve drifted. The new monstrous antibiotics coursing through his system pushed the fever-induced nightmares back into the deep recesses of his mind, and Lennie's sightless eyes no longer haunted his dreams. Even pain was kept relatively at bay, so long as he didn't move. So he lay perfectly still, soaking up the wild bursts of smells and sounds that greeted his return to the conscious world. Voices floated around him – words jumbled beyond recognition at first, but slowly, gradually the syllables began to catch up with one another, becoming more coherent, more distinct.

"How long was he awake for?" _"Danno's voice?"_

"Almost ten minutes. He was asking for you." _"Kono?"_

"Figures." He heard Danny let out a long frustrated sigh. "Of course he would pick the exact time when I'm not there to wake up."

"It's okay, Danny. The doctor thinks he's on the mend. He's hoping to have him ready for surgery tomorrow."

"Well that's good. That's good." He sounded distracted somehow, upset over something, and worry began to tickle the back of Steve's mind.

"Danny… what are you gonna do about Rachel?"

The shuddering sigh shattered whatever hold that sleep still kept on him, and Steve held his breath, straining to listen.

"Kono, please!"

"Why don't you, at least, give my cousin a call? Kaleo is a good lawyer. He might be able to help."

"Yeah…"

Danny's voice sounded tired and almost pained, and Steve couldn't stand it any longer. He fought to pry his eyes open, but just as a sliver of light sneaked under his partially open eyelids, he heard a question that made him freeze.

"Are you gonna tell Steve?"

"No!" the vehemence of his reply felt like a punch in the gut. Steve gritted his teeth, waiting for his partner to continue. The rest of Danny's reply, however, was not at all what he expected.

"You know the idiot is gonna feel responsible, and you've seen what happened the last time he felt responsible. I can't… I can't do this to him."

"D-do … what?" Steve barely recognized the weak, raspy voice as his own. He squinted at the short detective and almost had to laugh at the near-comical expression of surprise that crossed his friend's face.

Danny recovered fairly quickly, though. "Don't you know it's impolite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" he quipped, sitting down on the bed next to his partner. "I mean, the proper thing would have been to give us a warning. Cough, sneeze, break wind – you know, something to let us know you were no longer zonked out."

The corners of Steve's mouth pulled into a bemused smile. "Quit… changing the subject," he breathed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Danny's answer was quick, a bit too quick, and Steve gritted his teeth impatiently.

"You know, you could try looking me … in the eyes."

Danny and Kono exchanged glances, and Steve noticed a small, almost imperceptible shake of Danny's head at the Rookies questioning stare.

"Dammit, Danny, talk to me!" the ex-SEAL growled, his voice gaining strength from his ever-growing frustration. He shifted inadvertently, hissing as pain flared up again, overriding all other senses. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the burning agony to simmer down to the more bearable dull throb.

The blond detective watched him, teeth clenched in helpless concern. He hated himself at this moment, but it had to be this way. It had to. Steve needed time to recover. The one thing he didn't need was to worry about him and Grace. Knowing his partner as he did, Danny figured there was only one way to keep Steve off his back, at least temporarily. Mentally apologizing to his friend for stooping so low as to hit below the belt, Danny plunged in.

"Tell you what," the Jersey native gave him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I'll tell you everything if you tell me who that Lennie person is that had you screaming your head of last night."

The impact was instantaneous. Steve inhaled sharply, what little color there was draining from his face, and Danny felt like the ultimate asshole when he saw the look of pure anguish that flashed in the depths of the blue eyes.

"_I'm so sorry for this, buddy,"_ he thought, watching him with a pained expression of his own.

"Last night?" Steve whispered hoarsely, staring at a random spot on his blanket.

Danny felt the need to clear his suddenly dry throat. "You were having a nightmare."

The Navy man nodded absently, face frozen in a grim expression. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Hey," Williams placed a halting hand over Steve's, "you've got absolutely nothing to apologize for. You hear? I'm sorry I brought it up." He sighed, noting the SEAL's continuing refusal to meet his eyes. "Look, uhm, why don't we table this discussion until you're back to your old ass-kicking bulletproof self? And then we'll just swap our horror stories with each other. You'll tell me about your demons, I'll tell you about mine. How does that sound?"

Steve turned his head slightly, giving his partner a skeptical look. "You got demons, Danno?"

"Two, actually," Danny returned, unable to hide a smile of relief at this sign of reconciliation. "My beautiful ex and her pet legal mouthpiece."

"I see."

"So, do we have a deal?" Danny tried cautiously, and Steve nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly, the corners of his mouth tugged slightly upwards.

"Good." Williams stood up, giving Steve's hand a quick squeeze. "I gotta go do some… stuff. I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." McGarrett watched him leave, an unreadable expression on his face. As soon as Danny's footsteps died away, he turned his face toward the room's only other occupant. His expression grim and determined, he declared, "I need to know what's going on."

"Boss, you heard Danny. He doesn't want you to get involved," came Kono's hesitant reply.

Steve's jaw tightened in response. "It's not his decision to make, Kono. I'm not a baby, and I don't need to be treated like one."

"No, you're not," the young woman conceded, stepping closer to his bed, "but need I remind you that you were nearly dead only a couple of days ago?"

The former SEAL sighed tiredly. "I know… I know…" He looked at her again, his expression almost pleading. "Look, I've heard enough to know that this has something to do with Rachel. Is she threatening to cut off his visitation rights again?" He saw Kono cringe and knew he had hit close to home. "She is, isn't she?"

Kono shook her head in resignation. "Not exactly, but it's close enough." And reluctantly she proceeded to fill him in, wincing at the thought of what Danny's reaction would be once he found out.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

Detective Williams left the lawyer's office in somewhat uplifted spirits. Kaleo Palakiko was courteous and compassionate, qualities that Danny had not often encountered in lawyers. And the promise that he would at least make sure that Danny has a fighting chance, made the detective feel as though he could start breathing normally again. Even though he told Rachel flat out that she was not going to win this one, he now, for the first time, actually dared to believe in his own words.

These thoughts were running through his mind as he made his way to his partner's hospital floor. But as the elevator doors opened, he found himself rooted to the spot at the sight that opened before him. There, standing in awkward indecision next to the door to McGarrett's room, was his ex-wife, Grace's hand held firmly in her own.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" he asked, even as Grace tore her hand free from her mother's and barreled into him with an excited squeal of "Danno!"

"Hey, Monkey," he responded, all but crushing the little girl against his chest, desperate to prolong the moment.

"Grace wanted to visit Steve," the British woman walked over slowly, her dark eyes watching Danny intently, as if gauging his reaction. "She was worried about him. And I thought it'd be best to do this now before… before things get too uncomfortable."

"You mean before you go out of your way to make my life a living h…?" He stopped short, swallowing the harsh word for the sake of his daughter. "Hate to disappoint you, my dear, but that ship has sailed." He couldn't help feeling a small amount of satisfaction from watching his ex cringe at his words.

"Danny, please," she begged, "let's not do this here."

"Fine," he relented. The gesture, after all, was a good one, regardless of what might be hiding behind it. "Thanks for doing this," he added. "Steve will be happy."

She nodded silently, averting her eyes. "Let's go, Grace."

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

Steve appeared to be dosing when they walked into the room, but as they approached the bed, he looked up, his face breaking into the first genuinely happy smile upon seeing the little girl that was dragging both her parents behind her in a hurry to get to him faster.

"Uncle Steve!"

The little ball of energy bounced up onto the bed, before any of them had a chance to blink, and it was only Danny's warning cry of "Gracie!" that stopped her from causing more damage to the wounded SEAL. As it was, Steve paled considerably, the blue eyes pinched with pain.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Steve," Grace spoke hurriedly, as she moved back, her own eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"N-no, ...'ts okay…" McGarrett managed through clenched teeth.

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart," Danny chimed in¸ squeezing her shoulder as a sign of reassurance. "You just need to remember that Uncle Steve is a little sick right now, so we need to be extra gentle with him, okay?"

He winked at his partner, enjoying the latter's obvious embarrassment at his choice of words.

"Are you sure you're okay, Uncle Steve?" the eight-year-old inquired, her voice filled with such innocent concern that for a brief moment Steve found himself unable to speak, overwhelmed by this unreserved show of care on her part.

So instead he reached out, taking her small hand into his larger one. "I'm good," he whispered, giving her one of his best disarming smiles and was gratified to see her respond with a shy one of her own.

His smile faded a bit as his gaze shifted, settling on Danny's ex-wife. He watched her silently, his last conversation with Kono replaying in his mind. _This was it – his chance to make things right._ The intense blue narrowed slightly, jaw tightened in resolve.

"Hey, Gracie," he leaned slightly forward, his voice dropping down to a conspiratorial whisper, "I overheard some nurses talking – apparently, the cafeteria downstairs has some phenomenal chocolate-caramel ice-cream. I believe the exact word they used was … uhm… divine?" He winked at the little girl, noting the excited smile that lit up her face. "Why don't you ask Danno if he could take you down there for a sampling, and then you can report back to me with your unbiased opinion? How does that sound?"

Grace nodded vigorously, turning swiftly toward her dad. "Can we, Danno?"

The blond detective frowned questioningly at his partner. "What are you up to, Steven?"

"Nothing," the Navy man replied, blinking innocently at him. "I just thought that since I don't get to experience the 'good' hospital food, I could try living vicariously through Grace here."

"Please, Danno?"

Williams shifted his gaze back to his daughter's pleading eyes and sighed, rubbing his face. Steve was definitely up to something. He had that determined look of a pit-bull on a mission, and Danny's stomach felt queasy in anticipation. All the more so, because he could pretty much guess what that mission was. But saying no to Gracie?

"Come on, Danny," Steve nudged, his lips twisting in a crooked smile. "Nothing's gonna happen in the 10-odd minutes it's gonna take you to enjoy a bowl of ice-cream with your daughter. Besides, Rachel's gonna stay here to keep an eye on me, right?" He said that last phrase as a question, but the look he gave the dark-haired woman was one of near intimidation, and Rachel actually shivered under the intensity of its fire.

"Sure, I'll stay," she replied quickly, diverting her eyes. "You, guys, go have fun."

And as much as it distressed him to leave Steve alone with his ex-wife, Danny relented, mentally vowing to himself to make it the shortest ice-cream run in the history of ice-cream runs. Even if it meant that Grace would be finishing her "divine" concoction in the stupid plastic chair next to McGarrett's bed and dripping chocolate all over the hospital floor. He'd gladly deal with the nurses' anger if it meant that he could keep his SEAL from getting into any more trouble.

TBC

Please let me know your thoughts. Pretty please :-) puppy dog eyes


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, so I know that this is my shortest chapter yet (and I'm sorry about that). HOWever, for me that was a super fast update (seriously, I've never had the opportunity to actually finish a chapter in one day). So, hopefully, that fact makes up for the shortness :-)

Now, on to the chapter. I don't know if you, guys, like what I did here, but this is how things played out in my sleep-deprived brain, so... (BTW, did I mention I wasn't done with Steve whumpage? (evil smirk) :-)

Disclaimer: The usual

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

"You know," Steve began quietly, once he was sure his partner and his little girl were out of earshot, "when I was stationed in Afghanistan, our platoon would be getting packages from stateside roughly once a month. We all looked forward to this – it was like a lifeline to us, our only reminder that there was a world outside all that blood and grime that we were surrounded with; a sane world."

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. His mind once again taking him back to the desolate mountain expanses; the bare rocks that cut painfully into every part of his body as he pressed himself against them, tracking the enemy;, the harsh biting winds that swept the mountainside… His face taut with suppressed emotion, he continued, his voice rough and hollow:

"One day a buddy of mine got a letter from his fiancé… a 'Dear John' letter. She moved on, she said. 'Sorry, hon, but I can't do this any longer. Hope you stay well'." He laughed a mirthless laugh, seemingly having forgotten about his audience.

"What happened?" Rachel's voice brought him back to the present, and he turned to her, his eyes wide and haunted.

"There was another insurgent attack soon after," he replied, his voice low and dull. "The guy jumped out of the trenches and ran straight at them. He was dead within seconds."

Rachel gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "How terrible…"

"The reason I'm telling you all this, Rachel," the blue eyes settled on the slender brunette, watching her intently, "is that cops are not that different from soldiers. Their lives are also on the line every day. And even if they don't witness as much carnage as the guys on the battlefield, they see enough…. And if they don't have something to hold on to, something to keep their sanity intact, they are lost just as quickly as that friend of mine."

Rachel's expression changed into one of mild annoyance, bordering on hostility. "I know all about the life of a cop, Steven, thank you very much," she quipped. "I've been married to one, in case you've forgotten."

"And you couldn't deal with it," Steve acknowledged, ignoring her tone, "I get it. Not everybody can. And he was a wreck for 6 months after, from what he told me." He shifted forward slightly, wincing at a sudden flare of pain deep within his chest. "Look, Rachel, I'm not trying to give you a lecture or anything. I just… Danny needs his lifeline, just like any of us. You've seen firsthand what losing Matt did to him. Grace is the only thing he's got left. I saw him fall apart when you threatened to cut off his visitation rights the first time. I can't let you do this to him again."

"You can't **let** me?" Rachel's voice actually rose a few octaves, and Steve cringed, thinking that it may not have been the best choice of words on his part. "She's **my** daughter, too, you know. And it is my responsibility as a mother to make sure that she is safe."

"But that's just the thing, Rachel. She **is** safe! Danny's a terrific, devoted father. He would do anything to protect that little girl. Just like any one of my teammates."

Rachel closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Steve, but you can't convince me that she is not in danger when she's around you and your team."

His mouth set in a grim line, he nodded sharply at something in his own thoughts. "Then deal out the punishment where you think it's due," he suggested firmly. "Don't take it out on Danny. I'm the one that screwed up. Punish me."

She looked back at him, meeting his burning, troubled gaze, and shook her head, regret written clearly across her features. "I'm sorry. I'm gonna go get Grace." And she turned away, heading toward the door.

"No, Rachel, wait!" Without thinking, Steve pushed himself forward and off the bed, desperate to get one more chance to change her mind. Two sensations hit him at once – an overwhelming dizziness that had him lean heavily back against the bed and a white-hot, searing pain that exploded in his chest, slicing straight through his heart. He gulped for air, trying to form the words, but the only thing that came out was a strangled "Aarrgh… ggod," as he crumbled helplessly to the floor, curling in on himself against the deluge of excruciating pain.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

True to his pledge, Danny Williams did everything in his power to get back to Steve's room as quickly as possible. He listened distractedly to Grace's excited chatter in between mouthfuls of drippy chocolate, as their elevator made its painfully slow ascent to the fourth floor. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the machine chimed, announcing their arrival, and Danny jumped out of the elevator, all but dragging his daughter behind him.

A horrified scream pierced the relative quiet of the hospital hallway, and Danny's blood ran cold. It was his ex-wife's voice. His feet began moving almost automatically, as he rushed forward at full speed, Grace hurrying after him.

"What the hell happened?" he screamed, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of his partner.

"I… I don't know," Rachel stammered, swallowing back her fear. "H-he just collapsed… I…"

But Danny was no longer listening. Dropping to his knees next to his fallen partner, he barked over his shoulder, "Get the doctor! NOW!"

And as Rachel hurried out of the room, he wrapped his arms around Steve, raising him gently off the floor and into his arms. Steve gasped at the movement, his face growing a shade paler, pain-filled eyes trying to focus on the Jersey detective.

"What is it, Steve?" Danny's panicked voice sounded above his ear. "What's wrong?"

"Ch-chest… hrtz…" the former SEAL managed through tightly clenched teeth, and Danny's heart froze at the implication. _"Oh, no… No, no, no."_

Danny didn't realize that his silent mantra had turned into an outright scream, as he saw Steve's eyes roll back in his head, and his body went utterly, horrifyingly still in his arms.

TBC

Okay, more puppy dog eyes (they worked so well last time :) Please review, please, please?


	14. Chapter 14

Wow, I was overwhelmed by all the responses to the previous chapter. Thank you so much! I'm so glad you, guys, like evil cliffies, 'cause there's another one coming up. And before you start yelling at me or threatening me with bazookas (wink, wink), please, please, please, refer back to the Author's Note in chapter 6. :-)

So, here's a Danny-centric chapter. The text in italics in part 3 is Danny's dream (just to be clear).

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><p>Chapter 13<p>

"_His breathing's too shallow."_

"_Pulse is weakening."_

"_Doctor, we're losing him!"_

"_Let's get him to the OR, stat!"_

The words thrashed about in his tired brain – a cruel, unrelenting assault. Once again he found himself standing outside the doors to the operating room, waiting for a word on his partner. Once again he had come too late. _10 minutes. 10 __**freaking**__ minutes!_ He should have known better. It's McGarrett, after all. The man can get in trouble within the span of 10 **seconds**. His gut was telling him not to leave McGarrett alone. He should have listened to it. _Dammit, he should have listened!_

"Danny?" Rachel's hesitant voice came from behind him, and he tensed, hands tightening into fists almost on their own volition. "I'm gonna take Gracie home. She's pretty upset."

He nodded, not trusting himself to turn and face her. "I'll call her as soon as I hear anything." _God, his voice sounded raspy._

"Listen, Danny, I'm really sorry. I didn't think he would try to go after me. I…"

"Go after you?" This time he did turn, his brows knitting in confusion. "Why would he do that?"

The brown eyes glistened with guilt. "He wanted to convince me to drop the custody suit," she explained nervously. "And some of the things he said… I wasn't… I guess, I wasn't ready to hear. So I went to leave and that's when he…"

"I got it," Danny bit out, holding up his hand to stop her from talking. _"He did it again. The stupid, self-sacrificing son of a bitch did it again."_ He looked away sharply, not willing for Rachel to see the emotions he knew he was failing to hide.

"I'm sorry."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing against the bile in his throat. "Go home, Rachel," he managed, his lips tight with anger that wasn't fully directed at his ex-wife. "Just go."

He could almost feel Rachel nod behind him in acquiescence, but her parting words were his undoing, "For what it's worth, Danny, you have a very loyal friend."

He held it together, standing stock still, until the soft clicking of her heels and the pitter-patter of his daughter's feet died away. And then his right fist rose, whooshing through the air, until it connected sharply and fiercely with a nearby wall. Pain radiated up his arm, and he welcomed it, relishing in its cruel simplicity. Cradling his aching limb against his chest, his whole body shaking with pent-up emotions, he slid down the bare wall and for the first time since this whole mess started the proud (formerly) Jersey detective Danny Williams bawled his eyes out in the middle of an empty hospital hallway.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

That was how Kono and Chin found him half an hour later – huddled on the floor next to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, pale blue eyes staring into the distance, unseeing.

The cousins shared a look of concern, and Kono bent down slowly, gently placing her hand on the blond man's shoulder. "Danny?"

He looked up, his eyes settling on her, and Kono could swear she felt a chill run down her spine at the look she saw in the pale blue depths.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, eyes flashing darkly.

"Rachel called us," she began, uncertain. "Said something happened to Steve."

"No!" he snapped, pushing her away, as he rose sharply to his feet. "What I mean is what are **you** doing here?"

The Rookie shook her head, exchanging a confused look with her cousin. "I don't un-"

"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" Danny accused, his finger jabbing her painfully in the shoulder. "Couldn't keep it to yourself like I asked you to!"

The young woman paled, dark eyes growing wide in apprehension. "What happened?"

"What happened is that my partner is on the operating table right now because you couldn't keep your mouth shut!" the Jersey native barked, his temper raging as fast as the hand movements that accompanied his words.

"Danny, I didn't-" Kono was on the verge of tears, and Chin laid a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"Can you just tell us what happened, Danny?" he asked, his tone clipped with worry.

The haole detective leveled them both with a wild, desperate stare.

"He moved," Danny's hand flapped about, a mirthless laugh escaping his lips. "The guy who was supposed to quote-unquote avoid any sudden moves did exactly what he was told not to, courtesy of my lovely ex-wife." Seeing their perplexed looks, he clarified in a tone that made Kono wince, "The idiot thought he could get the Ice Queen to drop the custody suit. And when, **surprise, surprise**, she walked away, instead of listening to him, Rambo there thought it would be a good idea to chase after her."

His steam spent, Danny dropped into one of the nearby chairs, hands buried deep inside his disheveled mop of hair. "He was in so much pain when I found him," the whispered phrase tumbled past his lips, breath hitching with a choked sob.

Kono bit her lower lip, her own heart breaking into pieces. She lowered herself into the seat next to him, sitting ramrod straight as if afraid to accidentally touch him. "Danny," she began, her voice low and strained, "I know you think this is all my fault for telling him, but he already knew." She nodded grimly at Danny's skeptical look. "He overheard us talking," she explained. "He may not have heard everything, but he'd heard enough. I only filled in the details."

The Jersey native sighed, lowering his gaze back to the toes of his shoes. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he mumbled wearily. "I just… I need him to be okay."

"So do I, Danny… so do I." Kono nodded again, blinking away her own tears, and reached out hesitantly, placing her hand on his arm. This time he didn't pull away.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

_Night has descended on Honolulu, coating the city in a stifling blanket of darkness, and Danny shivered involuntarily, turning away from the window. _

_"What is taking them so long?" he wondered worriedly, glancing up impatiently at the plain round clock that hung above the doors to the OR. "2 o'clock in the morning. Geez…" _

_He headed back to his seat and was about to sit down when the door to the operating room was pushed open, revealing an exhausted surgeon. Dr. Steinberg leaned heavily against the adjacent wall, a tired hand pulling down the surgical mask. His eyes found Danny's, and the doctor sighed, shaking his head in defeat. _

_"Detective Williams, I'm so sorry…"_

A desperate scream died on his lips, as he awoke with a start, heart beating wildly within his chest, like a caged bird trying to get out.

"Easy, Brah," Chin's voice sounded next to his ear. "It was just a bad dream."

He nodded, swallowing harshly, a trembling hand reaching up to wipe the sweat off his brow. Unbidden, his eyes went to the clock on the opposite wall, and his heart froze in irrational fear. The thin black arrows hovered mercilessly near the same damn numbers that came to him in that horrifying dream – 2 o'clock. His head whipped around to the window, lips pressing into a thin white line at the sight of pitch black darkness outside. _"Same time. Same damn time…,"_ the thought flailed about in his mind, and he shook his head vigorously, trying to get rid of it. _"It's not gonna happen. It was just a nightmare. Just a stupid, stupid nightmare."_

The door to the operating room was pushed open at that very moment, and Danny found himself rising from his seat, his feet shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind. He watched, horror-stricken, as the images from his nightmare played out before him in ruthless reality. The surgeon once again leaned wearily against the wall for support. The pale grey eyes sought out the detective's, and as Dr. Steinberg slowly pulled down his mask, Danny was struck by the grim, defeated look on his tired face.

"Detective Williams," the doctor began thickly.

If it wasn't for Chin's steadying hand, detective Danny Williams would have hit the floor.

TBC

Thoughts? Comments? (pretty please?)


	15. Chapter 15

Well, this took a lot longer than I anticipated. Sorry about that. I hope you, guys, haven't lost interest.

I really hope the medical stuff makes sense here. I did my research, but I'm no doctor (obviously :-), so if any doctors or nurses out there become offended - I'm sorry, I tried :)

One more thing (just to avoid confusion): the first part of the chapter is happening during Steve's surgery. The non-italicized text is what is happening in the real world, the italicized - what is happening inside Steve's head. I'm not sure how well that turned out, but I hope that it at least makes sense.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

"Chest wall retractor in place, Doctor."

"Good, let's begin."

-H50- -H50-

"_So, another failure to add to your list, eh Commander?"_

_The stifling air beside him thickened, gradually molding itself into a hauntingly familiar ghostly shape, and his lips tightened in apprehension. _

"_What do you want, Lennie?"_

"_Nothing," the figure shrugged impassively, "just making an observation."_

"_Got nothing better to do?"_

"_Other than to haunt you, Commander?" the figure sneered good-naturedly. "I don't think so. Not at the moment."_

"_Why don't you go haunt somebody else for a change?" Steve snarled, turning his head away._

"_Can't," the figure sighed almost ruefully and sat down on the edge of his bed, carefully smoothing out the edges of his torn uniform. "I am, after all, a figment of your imagination." He held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "That means you would have to be the one to … uh… wish me away, so to speak."_

_Steve glared at his uninvited companion. "Well, then you must have missed the memo," he snapped, "'cause I want you out of my head. Now!"_

_Lennie pursed his lips slightly, looking down at him with actual pity in his pale gray eyes. "You must not want it that much then."_

"_I do. I want you to leave me the hell alone!"_

_-H50- -H50- _

"His BP's dropping!"

"I need more suction!"

-H50- -H50-

"_Shhh!" Lennie placed his slightly transparent hand on Steve's shoulder, making the latter recoil as if burned. "The doctors are having a hard enough time getting your blood pressure under control. Don't make their jobs harder."_

"_What?" he blinked at him, uncomprehending, and his ghostly companion rolled his eyes impatiently._

"_Oh, that's right. You're not a ghost yet, so you can't really see what's going on, can you?" He winked mischievously, stabbing his thumb at some unknown spot behind his back. "All the king's horses and all the king's men over there are trying to put you back together again. You know, just like the last time when you went and blew yourself up on that mortar back in the desert."_

_Steve's face darkened. "I was saving your ass."_

_The ghost nodded grimly, all traces of a smile gone. "And I died saving yours." His pale bottomless eyes held Steve's for the briefest of seconds, until the latter looked away, squeezing his shut. _

"_I'm sorry," was the whispered response._

_Lennie waved him away. "You and your guilt thing. You two make such a lovely couple, I'm surprised you're not married yet." He considered the prone man for a moment. "Seriously, though, how badly do you think you messed up this time?"_

_Steve favored him with another glare.  
>"That bad, huh?" Lennie shook his head. "Let's recount. You nearly get your partner's daughter killed, which, in turn, (and unsurprisingly, I might add) pisses off the said daughter's mother. The latter threatens to take some of the custodial privileges away from your partner. You try to convince her not to do it. Piss her off even more, and end up on the operating table. Does that about sum it up?"<em>

_McGarrett closed his eyes again, exhaling deeply. "I swore to myself that I would make it up to Danny," he said, his voice pained and tired._

"_Or die trying?"_

"_Or die trying."_

"_Then why aren't you?"_

"_Why am I not what?"_

"_Dead."_

"_Oh." He smiled ruefully. "Danny probably wishes I was."_

_The ghost leaned back, yawning tiredly. "You know, you're no fun anymore. You're starting to become too predictable."_

"_If you're bored, get out," he bit back. "My head would feel much better without you loafing around in there."_

"_And leave you to … what? Die in peace?"_

"_Yes," he affirmed sharply. "You can at least give me that."_

"_Why don't you ask your friend first what he wishes for you to do before making his decision for him?" Lennie looked at him expectantly, but Steve merely closed his eyes, a resigned look on his face._

"_Grace is the only thing that matters to Danny on this island," he explained hoarsely. What I messed up for him… I might as well be dead as far as he's concerned."_

_-H50- -H50- _

"He's in asystole!"

"Nurse, a little help here! Let's get his heart going."

"Still nothing. The massage isn't working."

"Come on! Come on!"

"He's not responding. Doctor, we need to call it."

"Dammit, Commander, don't do this! Get him 1mg of epinephrine. STAT.""

"I'm getting a rhythm."

"Thank God."

-H50- -H50-

"_You are one stubborn son of a bitch."_

"_Leave me alone, Lennie."_

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

"Detective Williams," the doctor acknowledged exhaustedly at the Jersey native, nodding at his two companions, "Detectives." Pushing himself away from the wall, an action that seemingly took quite a bit of effort on his part, Dr. Steinberg walked unsteadily over to the waiting group, sagging heavily into the closest chair.

The trio watched him with bated breaths until finally Danny couldn't take it any longer.

"Is he-?"

"Still with us," the surgeon responded on an exhale. "Though, unfortunately, I cannot give you any reassurances beyond that."

"Why?" Danny croaked, his body tense like an over-tightened guitar string. "What is happening to him?"

Dr. Steinberg shifted forward slightly, letting his head drop momentarily into his hands. "I won't ask you what the Commander was doing jumping off the bed in his condition, but, whatever it was that caused him to do it, I hope it was worth it." He looked up, his tired grey eyes meeting Danny's anguished ones. "The force of the movement pushed that piece of shrapnel we were concerned about much faster and further than I'd anticipated," he began, his face creased with fatigue and something else… remorse? "It penetrated the wall of the heart and became lodged in the left ventricle. As a result, blood began to pour into his pericardium…."

"I'm sorry, his what?" Kono interrupted, her voice cracking with worry.

"It's a sac that surrounds the heart," the surgeon explained, automatically switching to a teaching mode. "When fluid, such as blood collects in it, the heart cannot expand as well as it needs to. If the fluid is not drained quickly, the compression of the heart eventually leads to its failure." He paused, a shaking hand reaching up to wipe his brow. "Commander McGarrett's was hemorrhaging so severely that, by the time we opened his chest cavity, his heart was nearly suffocated by the blood that had pooled in his pericardium. His blood pressure was 62 over 40 and getting weaker with every minute. By the time we removed the shrapnel and sutured the heart, he became asystolic… uhm… that is to say, his heart had stopped beating."

An audible gasp from the woman standing beside him made him look up, and the doctor cringed at the horrified expression he saw in the tear-filled dark eyes. The deathly pale, haggard faces of her two companions reflected the same shocked despair. Dr. Steinberg signed dejectedly. He wanted so much to be able to tell them something, anything to ease their worry. But how could he reassure someone with hope-filled promises, when he himself could not be sure that his patient would survive the night. The only thing he could do was give them the small comfort of the here and now, and that was what he did.

"We got him back," he whispered, putting as much assurance in his voice as he could muster. "Open heart massage and a shot of epinephrine… we got him back."

The trio regarded the doctor wordlessly for a while, until Chin broke the overwrought silence, asking the question that was weighing heavily on all their minds.

"How long was he … how long did his heart stop for?"

"Seven minutes." The doctor knew by the pained looks on his listeners' faces that they were more than aware of the implications. Commander McGarrett would have a long recovery process to look forward to when he wakes up… if he wakes up.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Steinberg added unnecessarily and stood up, pulling the surgical cap off his graying hair. "The Commander is being settled in the ICU as we speak. He is unlikely to wake up any time soon _(if ever, he added silently to himself)_, so you don't have to stay. But, if you wish to visit him, I'll have the nurse inform you when he's ready."

"Thank you, Doctor," Danny croaked, nodding absently.

Try as he might, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sleeves of the surgeon's gown, the sleeves that were coated to the elbows with blood, Steve's blood. Those hands were inside Steve's chest, holding his heart, forcing it to move. Danny's stomach churned suddenly with a violent realization. He nearly lost him again. Because of his own stupidity… again. Right after he promised him that he would be there for him, always. _Always._ He nearly choked on the word, gulping it down savagely, as he felt a wave of nausea build up against the back of his throat. He tried to force it down, but realized quickly that it was a futile endeavor. And so he stumbled for the nearest restroom, hand clamped tight against his mouth, blood roaring in his ears. There in the sink in front of a grimy mirror, assaulted by images of the surgeon's blood-covered hands and his friend's lifeless form, Danny Williams broke his non-puking streak.

TBC

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Plus, reviews make me happy (really happy :-) So pretty please?


	16. Chapter 16

I have to apologize for the long wait. I really didn't expect this update to take so long, but I became completely buried in work. I do so appreciate all your kind words and your patience. I'm giving you a slightly longer than usual chapter as a way of apology. Hopefully, it would be to your satisfaction (both length- and content-wise). As always, I would absolutely love to hear from you!

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

"Go home, Danny. Get some rest."

The words roused him from his troubled, shivery slumber, and he jumped, his frantic gaze shifting automatically to the motionless form in the hospital bed beside him.

"He's fine. I'll stay and watch him," the same voice said, and Danny lifted his bloodshot eyes to the newcomer, leveling her with an exhausted glare.

"Fine? _**This**_," he pointed dramatically at the unconscious man in bed, "is not fine, Kono. This is even further from fine than this _god-forsaken hole_ is from New Jersey!" He was agitated now, turning his gut-searing worry for his partner into frustration and taking that frustration out on the first person that got in the way. And the rookie, bless her heart, saw his outburst for what it was.  
>"It's not what I… you know I didn't mean that, Danny," she admonished softly, taking a determined step in his direction and squatting down to his eye level. "Go home," she repeated, her voice holding no accusation, only sorrow-filled understanding. "You're exhausted."<p>

Danny squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hiding from her compassion. He couldn't bear it, could no longer stomach the pitying looks, the soothing, placating words. From all of them – the increasingly grimmer-looking doctor, the well-meaning but irritatingly affable nurses, and now his friends. He knew what they were thinking. Hell, he was thinking it too. Maybe not at first, not right after the surgery, not even a day or two later. But now?

"Four days, Kono," he managed finally, words tumbling out on the end of a shuddering breath. "It's been four freaking days."

"I know," she whispered, her own face crumbling; the stoic mask she'd put on for his sake breaking under the burning agony of his stare.

"They're not even telling me anything anymore," Danny continued, his gaze shifting back to rest on the drawn, bloodless face of his partner. McGarrett has lost what little color he had managed to gain since his last surgery, and then some. He wasn't just pale. With his spectrally thin, ghastly ashen skin he looked, for all intents and purposes, dead. And if it weren't for the quietly reassuring beeping of the heart monitor, Danny would have been hard pressed to think him anything but a somewhat fresh corpse. "They come in. They check him over, and they leave. It's like they're waiting for him to-." He stumbled, unwilling or unable to utter the terrifying word that has been roaring in the back of his mind like a hungry lion that had just missed its prey.

"He's not going to die!" Kono cut in emphatically, her voice shaking with resolve that was largely based on denial.

Danny turned back toward her, a small ray of hope seeping through the anguished desperation that filled the pale-blue eyes. _He was wrong then. She hasn't given up. And if he wasn't the only one who still held out hope, then maybe, just maybe, that hope wasn't a fool's hope after all_.

"Come on, Danny." The rookie took him by the hand, practically dragging him to the door. "Go rest for a few hours. I'll call you if anything changes."

The blond detective nodded numbly, running a tired hand across his rumpled, stubble-covered face, and, throwing one last look at the oblivious cause of his fledgling heart attack, walked out the door.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

The shrill sound of the door bell pierced the nearly peaceful quiet of the apartment, boring into his skull with the relentlessness and severity of an extremely pissed off bee.

"Go away," he groaned, not even bothering to open his eyes, as he feared it would prove to be too much of an effort.

His request fell on deaf ears, as whoever was outside the door seemed bent on ruining the last pitiful shreds of the blissful oblivion he dared to call sleep.

Realizing with bleak certainty that no matter how hard he tried to bury his head under the inviting fluffiness of the pillow, any further sleep just wasn't gonna happen for him today, he pushed off the covers, ripping out an oath of such savageness that even the toneless, bland-colored wall behind his headboard seemed to shrink a little in embarrassment.

Throwing a cursory glance at his bedside clock, he noted with dismay that it was, in fact, a whole of two hours later than when he had first slammed his face into a pillow. And he'd only been planning on taking a short power nap._ Right. There was nothing short or power about it. _Not only did he oversleep outrageously, but on top of that he felt more exhausted and run-down than if he had just gone a couple of rounds with a champion boxer. He shook his head a little, trying to clear away the remaining cobwebs, and immediately regretted this action, as the brutal peal of giant church bells that was ringing furiously inside his head reached a crescendo, threatening to split his head in two.

The knocking continued, and he cursed again, pushed up off the bed, and dragged himself to the door, groaning all the way there.

"Great," he murmured, once he saw who was on the other side. "Of all the doors of all the drab little apartments in all of Hawaii she had to knock on mine."

"Cute, Daniel," Rachel retorted, giving him a tight smile. "I don't believe I heard you do Bogart impersonations since our first date." She shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, eyes suddenly cast downward, and inquired, "May I come in?"

"I don't suppose you'd disappear if I just closed my eyes and wished you away?" he asked in response, only half-joking.

She bit the inside of her lip, her eyes darkening slightly at the silent condemnation she saw in his pale blues, and shook her head.

"That's what I figured," Danny sighed with mock exaggeration and stepped aside, waving her in with a clownish bow. "Might as well come in, then. My headache level has nowhere to go but down."

She walked past him into the center of the room, stopping rigidly in front of his mussed-up bed.

Her fingers fiddling nervously with the strap of her purse, she turned back toward him, taking in his rumpled appearance. "You look like hell," she remarked quietly.

She seemed uncomfortable and nervous somehow, and Danny's hackles rose. _Something was up._

"Your compliments overwhelm me, as always," he quipped, starting to feel some of her nervousness rub off on him. "I do so appreciate it, especially since you just dragged me out of bed, where, mind you, I would have still been lying (blissfully knocked out, I might add)…"

"Daniel…"

"… had it not been for your persistent hammering. But I have a hard time believing that you nearly knocked down my door…"

"Daniel."

"…just to say hello, because…"

"Daniel!"

"What?" He waited, arms folded across his chest to keep his nervous gesturing under control. But she remained silent; same tight anxious smile twisting her lips.

Something was clearly bothering his ex-wife, and the fact that she came to him with it could mean only one thing – Grace.

"Spill it, Rachel!" he all but ordered, his nervousness starting to give way to fear.

"I came here … to tell you that I'm sorry," she began, suddenly becoming very interested in the gray and white carpet patterns under her feet. "I…"

"Sorry?" Danny cut in, his indignation getting the better of him. "You're sorry. She's sorry, everyone," he swung his arms to the sides, mockingly inviting their non-existent audience to share in his outrage. "What exactly are you sorry for, may I ask? For trying to take my daughter away from me or maybe for helping drive a piece of metal through my friend's heart?"

Rachel shrunk back instinctively, wincing at his tone. "All of it," she insisted quietly. "I've… I've been thinking a lot about what Steve said. I realize now that he was right. I… I wasn't being fair… to you or to him." She took a deep, shaky breath, pushing back an errant strand of hair.

The pale blue eyes narrowed angrily, mouth setting in a grim line. "Well, that's great, Rachel, but I'm afraid your revelation comes a little bit late. The damage's already been done." _"Too much damage,"_ he thought darkly to himself, the image of his partner's chalk-white pain-twisted features flooding back to him. His headache rose another notch, and he cringed visibly, eyes squeezing shut on their own accord, hands flying up to his temples and pushing hard on both sides as if intent on crushing the cranium.

Suddenly there was a cool hand on his arm, and he looked up, startled to find Rachel this close to him, her dark eyes merely inches away.

"Look, Danny, I know that I acted awfully. I was upset and scared for Grace, and… that was no excuse, I realize that, but you have to believe that I never meant for Steve to get hurt like that." She paused, waiting for him to say something, but when no response came, she sighed and stepped back, hand falling bonelessly away.

"I wanted to tell you in person," the Brit continued after a brief pause, her voice soft and disheartened. "I'm dropping the custody suit. You can pick Gracie up a little earlier for your weekend. She's waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?" He blinked, uncomprehending. "Where?"

"At the hospital." Rachel smiled a bit sheepishly. "She wanted to see Steve first."

"Wait, wait, wait." Danny held up a hand, his forehead creasing in bewilderment. "You left her at the hospital?"

"With Kono."

"With…," Danny's eyes widened impossibly, gaping at her as if she'd suddenly grown an extra pair of heads, "with Kono… as in a member of 5-0? The people you feel Grace is not safe around, according to your lawyer? You took our daughter to see Steve **and** left her with Kono." He shook his head in stupefied wonder. "Who are you and what have you done with Rachel?"

She smiled again, nodding at something in her own thoughts. "I meant what I said before, Daniel. I was wrong. I'm hoping that I can still make things right." She looked at him hopefully, searching his face for any sign of assent, but he merely stared, too shocked to say or do anything.

She walked to the door then, resignation paling her features.

"Would you do me one favor, Danny?" she asked, her fingers tightening around the doorknob. "When Steve wakes up, would you tell him … tell him that I'm … really sorry … for everything."

With that she walked out, leaving him gaping in her wake, his mind churning over the past few moments. Only belatedly did he realize that when Rachel spoke about Steve waking up, she didn't say "if".

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

Detective Kono Kalakaua rose stiffly from her chair and stretched, glancing worriedly at the small figure that sat huddled on the hospital bed next to the motionless form of their team leader. The little girl hasn't moved from that spot since her mother had dropped her off almost an hour ago. She also hasn't said a word since she came in, and Kono found it just a bit unnerving.

"Hey, Grace," Kono gently placed her hand on the girl's shoulder to get her attention, "I'm gonna run down to the cafeteria for some coffee. Will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes?"

Grace nodded absently, her pigtails bouncing up and down with the movement.

"Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"No, I'm alright, thank you." She smiled politely and turned back to the man in bed, her face scrunching up in concern. "Do you think Uncle Steve will be okay?"

Her voice sounded so small and scared that Kono felt the sudden urge to pull the little girl into her arms. "Of course, he will, Sweetie," she tried with as much conviction as she could muster. "Why don't you try talking to him? Maybe he'll hear you and wake up sooner."

"You really think so?" The big brown eyes lit up with such hopefulness that Kono had to turn away, unable to bear the pure, open trust she saw in her gaze.

"I hope so," she replied, her voice hoarse with a deluge of emotions. "I really, really hope so, Sweetheart."

She gave Grace one quick hug and walked out, carefully closing the door behind her. Grace followed her with her eyes, a pensive frown clouding her features. Returning her gaze to the motionless man beside her, she pressed her lips together, her brow creasing in thought. Then, finally, her decision made, she leaned forward, wrapping her little hand around Steve's bigger one.

"Uncle Steve," she began hesitantly, her voice shaking a little. "Aunt Kono thinks that if I talk to you, you might hear me." She cocked her head slightly, peering closely at his face in the hope that she might see some response. None came, and she lowered her head, disappointed. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip, she risked another glance at her father's partner, her resolve hardening. "I hope you do hear me, because I really want you to wake up, Uncle Steve. Danno misses you so much. I saw him crying that day when he found you on the floor. He really wants you to come back, I just know it." She sniffled slightly, her hand tightening around Steve's. "I know that mom was mad at you for a while. But you don't need to worry about that. She's not mad anymore. I know. I heard her speaking to Stan about you." She closed her eyes briefly, feeling disheartened by his lack of response. Her bottom lip quivering with the effort to hold back the tears, she pleaded, "Please, wake up, Uncle Steve. I miss you so much."

She felt a slight pressure on her pinkie and looked down confused, but her face brightened instantly, when she realized that the hand she held in such a death grip for the past few minutes has suddenly moved. "Uncle Steve!" she squealed, nearly jumping on the bed with excitement.

The door behind her opened, and she turned to see her father rush in, his face dark with worry. "Gracie, is everything okay? You screamed. I.."

"He replied to me, Daddy," the girl explained excitedly, bouncing off the bed and into her father's arms. "I was talking to him like Aunt Kono said, and he squeezed my hand," she chattered breathlessly. "I think he's ready to wake up now."

Grace felt a shudder go through her father's body, and she pulled back, surprised to see tears trickling down his face. "Danno?" she asked, frowning in confusion. "Why are you crying? Isn't this a good thing?"

"Yes, Monkey," the blond detective smiled in relief, wiping away at the traitorous moisture. "It is a very good thing." He hugged his little girl closer, squeezing his eyes shut as he planted a long kiss on the top of her head. "A very, very good thing."

TBC

Well? What do you, guys, think? I was in a bit of a compassionate mood, can you tell? :)


	17. Chapter 17

Hi everyone. I really must apologize for the wait. This was really long. I had to take a work-related break, and my muse became so tired of waiting, she packed up and left :( Took me a while to hoax it back. I hope you're not disappointed with the results.

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Consciousness returned in agonizingly slow bursts, straining to dislodge the viselike grip that darkness kept on him. The blackness fought back fiercely, wrapping itself around his mind like a thick, impenetrable sheet. It was a losing fight, though, and thread by thread awareness ripped apart the dark canvas, bringing him inexorably out of the blissful and pain-free abyss of oblivion. Cut to the quick by such inconsiderate onslaught, darkness hobbled away, whimpering and snarling like a kicked puppy. Consciousness roared into victory, and Steve nearly screamed at the sudden onslaught of light that descended heavily upon him, blinding him even through tightly squeezed eyelids.

_"God, that was too bright. Somebody, kill the fucking lights! Please! Pretty please?" Why wasn't anybody listening? He said it out loud, didn't he? Did he? _

Cursing inwardly, he worked to get his mouth open for another try. The dry, cracked lips trembled with effort that ironically proved useless. Nothing came out. Something hard and unyielding was stuck in his throat, and he found he couldn't quite form the words around it._ "What the..?" _He tried to remove the offending object, but, to his dismay, found that he couldn't do that either. His arms refused to obey his commands. His whole body, in fact, appeared to be on some kind of strike against his brain. His frustration level rising with every heartbeat, he fought to break through the restraining numbness, only to abruptly cease all movement, as pain laced through his chest, ravaging like a wildfire. Breath stolen by the excruciating intensity of the wave that consumed him, Steve froze, his mouth twisted in the silent agony of a scream. Pain-stained blue eyes flew open in panic, crashing against a world of blurred shapes, distorted colors and a frantic blare of alarms, almost deafening in its volume.

A hand lay on his shoulder, and a familiar voice cut through the twisted cacophony: "Easy, partner. Take it easy. Don't move. I'll get the doctor."

_"Don't move. Funny, Danno." No, he was definitely not planning on moving any time soon._

There was a sudden flutter of activity around him, and the ear-splitting noise stopped abruptly, plunging the room into blessed quiet. He sent a silent thank you to whomever was responsible.

"Are you in pain, Commander?"

The new female voice seemed to exude genuine concern; still, had Steve been able to, he would have laughed right in the slightly blurry face that knelt above him. _"Seriously? Wonder what gave me away?"_

He blinked furiously until the face above him came into focus and gave the woman his best indignant stare. It must not have looked all that intimidating, though, for, despite his best efforts, the kindly face spread in a soft, friendly smile.

"I'm going to take out the tube now." _Same honey-dripping voice._ "There might be a little discomfort, so I need you to relax and just breathe out for me. On three. Ready?"

Accepting defeat, he blinked his consent, struggling to hide his frustration.

Another sugary smile, then, "One... Two... Three!"

Steve gasped in pain and surprise as the plastic object scraped rudely against the back of his throat. _"A little discomfort, my ass!"_ He gulped for air, trying to soothe the burning track left behind by the tube. _"Haven't I already done this before?"_

"It's your own damn fault for trying to play the hero, McGarrett." The caustic remark echoed his thoughts with such unexpected precision that he started involuntarily, squinting up at his blond-haired partner. _"When did you become a telepath, Danny?"_

"How's the pain level, Commander? Do you need me to give you something stronger?"

He closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively against his bone-dry throat. "No," he croaked, wondering just how much dry sand and broken glass he had swallowed the night before.

"Here." Something cold and wet pressed against his parched lips, and he parted them almost instantly, greedily sucking on the tiny frozen cube, relishing in its soothing coolness.

"Thank... you..." This time the words came a little easier, and though it still hurt to speak, he no longer felt as if he was running a grater against the inside of his larynx with every attempt to do so.

Zeroing in on a vaguely familiar pair of patient gray eyes _(was that his doctor?)_, he coughed out, "Wh.. hapnd?"

The older man pursed his lips gravely, giving him a stern look. "What happened is you went against my orders, Commander. And you nearly got yourself killed."

The reproachful response baffled him, and he struggled to make sense of it, fighting through the dense swamp of fractured memories that flooded his mind. He came up empty.

His face must have reflected some of his internal confusion, for the next voice he heard was Danny's, and the anger and frustration that punctuated his partner's words made him wince as though from physical pain.

"What the good doctor means, Steven, is that when a patient with a piece of metal embedded a hair's breadth away from his heart is told **not** to make any sharp moves, the said patient should make like a log and be content with total immobility until told otherwise. That patient should not, I repeat, _**should NOT**_ leap off the bed in an attempt to tackle his partner's ex-wife!"

_"Tackle? ... Rachel?... I never... Oh¸ God!" _Memories returned in a rush; a vivid, cruel kaleidoscope of images: snippets of Kono and Danny's hushed conversation at his bedside; the poorly disguised fear and desperation in his friend's eyes - a reaction to Rachel's latest callous threat; and Rachel's own face pinched with anger, her refusal to listen to his pleas.

A deep furrow settled between his brows, as he finally took in his partner's pale, tired face. Danny looked like shit. Like something that had been thoroughly chewed up, spit out, gobbled back up again and then regurgitated in a violent, projectile-style explosion that left him weak, rumpled and more than a little pissed off. And Steve knew with a sudden piercing clarity the reason behind the telltale signs of exhaustion that lined the Jersey man's face and the unmistakable undercurrent of tension that cut through his words.

_Rachel must have made good on her threat. And it was all his fault. He had failed his partner, his friend (could he still call him that?). He had caused Danny to lose the only thing that mattered to him in this life - he cost him Grace._

The realization hit Steve hard, his heart clenching painfully inside his chest, causing an instantaneous return of the blindingly powerful wave of agony that seemed to sear through his ribcage until he could no longer suppress a small pitiful moan.

"Steve? Hey, man, are you okay?"

_That wasn't right. Danny shouldn't be concerned about him. He shouldn't even be here standing next to him. God, what torture must it be for him to even be in the same room with a guy that destroyed whatever was left of his family. No, Danny didn't need this, not for his sake. Whatever sense of duty or obligation to his partner that forced Danny to stay at his bedside, it wasn't worth the pain associated with it. He needed to put a stop to this right now._

"G...go..." he forced out, his breath coming in sharp ragged bursts. "I s-screwed... th...thngs ... royally... 'm... s-srry... so... sorry..." He closed his eyes, swallowing weakly, the simple effort of talking nearly sapping all of his strength. "Y-you... d-dont... h...have t... be... h-here. I... un...der...stand..." The whispered words stumbled past his lips, awkward, desperate. He kept his eyes closed, waiting to feel the air shift beside him; knowing that it would mean that Danny left his room and his life... for good. He dreaded that moment, knew that it was inevitable, and couldn't find the courage to actually watch it happen. So he just lay there, perfectly still, as the emotional pain in his heart gradually overpowered the physical.

Seconds ticked away in silence, fading into an unbearable unknown. _Nothing was happening._ The tension beside him grew - he could almost feel his partner's nervous energy rolling off him in waves. It stifled him. _What the hell? Why hasn't he left yet?_ He risked a glance at him then and was taken completely aback by the dark intensity of the stare that met him. A myriad of emotions swirled in the shorter man's eyes like clouds of smoke in a billowing fire.

His eyes still glued to his partner's, Danny spoke with coolness that belied the volcanic pressure that screamed for release just underneath the surface, "Could we have a few moments in private, doctor?"

Seconds later they were alone, and for an odd fleeting moment Steve found himself actually a little frightened.

"_This_ is what your warped brain came up with? Really, Steven?" Danny leaned back a little, allowing more room for his arms that were now gesticulating wildly and getting awfully close to Steve's face. "I have spent days watching a machine pump air into your lungs, not knowing if you were gonna wake up or not. I listened to the doctor describe to me the odds for someone whose heart had stopped for a full seven minutes. **Seven minutes**, Steven!" The left hand swung sharply, making the man in bed flinch. "I saw them lose faith one by one: the staff here, Chin, Kono. Do you know what that feels like, Steven, to see the moment that your friends give up, to realize that you are the only idiot left who is still holding on to hope, to start doubting the wisdom of clinging to that hope? I started doubting myself. You understand that, McGarrett? I started thinking that maybe the others were right. Maybe you weren't coming back after all. Do you understand?"

"Danny..." He shifted awkwardly, taken aback by this outburst.

But the smaller detective ignored his attempt to speak. His words, clipped and breathless, tumbled past his lips with a speed that was nearly overwhelming for Steve's still foggy brain. "I haven't been able to sleep since that day at the warehouse. You wanna know why? I'll tell you why!"

_"I had a feeling you would, Danny,"_ Steve thought, feeling suddenly very drained.

"Because every time I close my eyes I keep seeing your bloody corpse on the floor of that broken down metal shack!"

"I didn't ... die, Danny," he protested weakly, flinching at the glare his partner leveled him with as he uttered those words.

"**No**? You sure as hell weren't trying your damnedest to live. Neither back then nor here at the hospital. The doctor had to _**fight**_ you to stop you from dying on the operating table, because you seemed hell-bent on getting me to go to your funeral. And I gotta tell you, I'm not too crazy about wearing black. I mean, it's fine for some people - goths, ninjas, vampire wannabes. But I don't think the color really flatters me. Not to mention that I already buried a partner on this godforsaken island, and I am really not elated at the prospect of turning this into a tradition. So you'll forgive me if I don't give a damn what you think I should or shouldn't do and where I should or shouldn't be at this particular moment! Because I've really been looking forward to getting you lucid enough just so I could tell you just how big of an imbecile I think you've been. I-"

"You lost Grace because of me!" Steve roared finally, jerking his body upward in a desperate attempt to get through to Danny, to get him to understand, to stop the incessant flow of words that were somehow making it harder and harder for him to breathe. He regretted his outburst almost immediately, as pain flared up again, forcing him to fall back onto the pillows with a hiss. "I... failed... you," he wheezed, when he was finally able to get his breath back, "Failed... you b-both..." _"Don't you get it, Danny?"_

Tortured blue eyes, nearly black with pain and despair, lifted guardedly to meet Danny's worried stare. Yes, worry was definitely there, and so were frustration and weariness and disbelief. The one thing Steve didn't see in his partner's eyes was what he expected to find there - anger and reproach. And before he could start to wrap his mind around the reasons, the blond detective moved his hand to the bed controls. Steve felt his upper body begin to rise gradually, and, even as he puzzled over Danny's strange behavior, the foot of his bed came into view and he saw a small dark-haired form curled up in a little ball by his left leg, fast asleep. And he froze, blinking stupidly, staring in confusion and wonder, as his mind screamed at him that what he was seeing wasn't possible.

"Grace?" The name slipped off his lips, a soft wisp of air, barely audible. "H-how?"

The whispered question hung in the air for a fraction of a second, and Steve tensed involuntarily, feeling his partner shift closer.

"Something you said to Rachel must have gotten through," Danny ventured.

Steve shook his head sharply, clamping down on the accompanying nausea. "She wouldn't... wouldn't listen to me. Sh-she was gonna... leave..."

"Well, then you must have impressed her with your graceful face-planting! I know _**I**_ was impressed." Danny's voice was once again clipped, irritated, and Steve risked a glance at the blond detective, frowning at the furious expression on his face. "I swear, McGarrett, sometimes your incredible thick-headedness is enough to drive a sane person to kill. I'd smack you upside the head _now_ if I didn't think that it would lead to another week of bedside vigils, which I no longer have the stomach for."

The former Jersey detective took a small calming breath and continued in a slightly more level voice. "Point is, whatever you said _**or**_ did, you got through. Melted the Ice Queen's heart. She showed up at my place yesterday, all emotional, saying that she made a mistake and that she was dropping her claim. She even went as far as to bring Gracie here and leave her at your side under, get this, _Kono's_ supervision. Apparently, she trusts our team implicitly now."

The ex-SEAL bit his lip thoughtfully, his gaze traveling back to the still-sleeping girl. "I dreamed I... heard her call for me..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice trailing off as he struggled to remember the faint sensation of a little hand holding his. _He thought it was just a dream..._

He saw Danny nod out of the corner of his eye. "She was holding on to you for dear life," his partner provided in a whisper. "Refused to leave your side, because, and I quote, 'Uncle Steve might become lost again'. Finally crashed right here on your bed about an hour ago."

Steve listened dazedly, his eyes never leaving the softly snoring tangle of small arms and tousled pigtails. "Real?" he murmured to no one in particular.

"Yes, you jughead. Real. Of course I could always pinch you, if you'd like."

A rueful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That's okay, Danny. I trust you." The smile faded just as quickly, and he looked once again at his partner, his eyes burning with gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely, feeling as though a heavy boulder had been lifted off his chest and he was finally able to start breathing again.

Danny shook his head, his gaze softening. "I think you got this backwards, Buddy. I'm the one who should be thanking _**you**_."

_"You weren't the one who screwed up in the first place, Danny."_

As if reading his thoughts, the blond detective shifted awkwardly, his hand running nervously through the blond waves. "Listen, Steve," he began haltingly, "what I said earlier at Kamekona's... I didn't mean it. I-"

"I know, Danny," Steve cut in quickly, too quickly, and Danny frowned disbelieving.

Placing his hand gently on his injured friend's shoulder, the shorter detective leaned forward, gazing intently into the pained blue eyes. "Do you? Really?"

Steve blinked under his partner's piercing stare and looked away for a moment, his mind wrestling with all the new information. Finally he turned back, meeting Danny's eyes again, and his breath caught in his throat at the genuine concern and remorse he saw in them.

"Yes, Danno," he smiled, a first genuine smile, feeling the remaining tension melt away. "I really do."

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><p>Okay, that was that. One more chapter to go, I think. Let me know your thoughts. I'm gonna go hide for now :-)<p> 


	18. Chapter 18

A/N Long wait. This final chapter just didn't want to come out, no matter how much I coaxed it :) I had to rewrite the final scene several times, and it just never seemed right. I am much more satisfied with the way it is now, but... well, I'll wait on your verdict. I may have taken some liberties with military procedures and maybe a bit with our two main characters. I hope you'll forgive me for those - I really couldn't help myself, I was starving for the emotional aspect that the show writers have been robbing us of lately. (although, from the return of the so sorely missed banter in tonight's episode and the - I gotta say - ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AWESOME preview of the next week's episode, my hope in the show is being renewed. yay!). Now, on the calmer note, I offer you this last installment chapter (a much longer one - but it just wouldn't have worked as a split piece). I do hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to each and every one of you who responded with their wonderful, heart-warming reviews, who put my story on alerts and into their favorites' lists! You have been absolutely awesome!

* * *

><p>Chapter 17<p>

Danny Williams cast periodic worried glances at his partner who sat slumped against the passenger side door. With his eyes closed, the man almost appeared to be sleeping. But Danny knew better. The thin sheen of sweat, the tightly clenched jaw, the slightly uneven breathing interrupted by occasional convulsive swallowing... - the stupid bastard was in pain and lots of it.

Swearing quietly under his breath, Danny cursed his partner's pigheadedness right along with the apparent incompetence of a hospital that could discharge a patient, who is so obviously not ready to be released.

_"And__ don't __forget __to__ include__ yourself __in __the __list __of __imbeciles," _his inner Danny reminded him cruelly. _"You __were__ the__ one __who __let__ this __goddamn __Rambo-wannabe __rope__ you __into __breaking__ him __out __of __there."_

The nearly surefire certitude that the Super SEAL would have found a way to escape from the hospital with or without his help provided but little comfort to Danny. Yes, he was perfectly aware that had he, Danny, not stepped in to drive Steve home, his crazy-ass partner would now be doing something completely moronic, like catapulting himself down the side of the hospital building while holding on to a makeshift rope knotted together from his ripped-up bed sheets. Yes, he knew that this way he was at least keeping him relatively safe. The knowledge didn't make him breathe any easier, though.

"Couldn't... stay there... anymore, Danny..."

The quiet, raspy voice startled him out of his wretched musings, and Danny cringed involuntarily. Whipping his head to the side to glare at his friend, he lashed out, letting irritation mask his worry.

"So this is your excuse, Mr. Mind Reader?" he seethed, gripping the steering wheel with so much force that his fingers ached in protest, as he tried hard to ignore the deep creases of pain etched in his partner's features. "That's supposed to make you keeling over in my car somehow justifiable?"

The former SEAL unglued his eyelids, doing his best to look indignant. "Wasn't... gonna..." he grumbled irritably, the blue eyes leveling the detective with a frustrated stare.

At that exact moment their car hit a pothole, and Steve's eyes slammed shut, his body going rigid under the agony of the new assault. The muscles in his left arm tightened impossibly, white-knuckled fingers digging into the armrest, and Danny swore loudly, looking away.

"Idiot!"

For the longest time all Danny could hear was the harsh, ragged breathing at his side, and he purposely kept his eyes on the road, trying to block out the image of his partner's ashen, pain-twisted face.

A soft thump reached his ears, drawing his attention back to his passenger. Steve had gone slack, slumped in his seat; his head resting harshly against the side window. The hand squeezing the armrest had gone lax as well, falling limply into the ex-SEAL's lap.

_"Great!__ Now __he's __unconscious."_ Danny bit his lower lip in a vain effort to rein in the worry that had once again begun to gnaw at his gut.

He reached out a shaky hand, his fingers brushing against his partner's neck, jerking back almost instantly as he felt the other man shift slightly under his touch.

"'mgood... Danny..."

But the barely-there whisper and the painfully hitched breath did nothing to reassure the Jersey detective.

Curling his lips into something resembling a snarl, he turned back toward the road, grumbling loudly. "You know, I'm tickled pink that your definition of 'good' includes 'barely breathing' and 'in excruciating pain'. But you have to forgive me my desire to get a normal person's perspective on your particular predicament."

The Navy commander cracked open one eye, giving Danny an incredulous look. "You... consider yourself ... normal, Danny?"

The blond detective humphed indignantly, fixing his partner with a withering stare. "Really, Steven? This is what you're going with? You do realize that compared to you most people in an insane asylum would probably pass for normal?"

He marveled briefly at how easily he slipped back into the familiar comfort of their mutual banter, and he sent a silent 'thank you' to Steve for giving him something else to focus on, something beside his own growing concern over his friend's too pale a face and still alarmingly labored breathing.

McGarrett gave him his best semblance of a smirk. "...hhow do you ... compare then?"

"Against what?" Thrown off his game by worry, Danny didn't notice the trap, walking right into it.

"The insane." McGarrett's pale lips twisted into a smile, and Williams couldn't help smiling back, feeling just a tad bit of relief creep into his bones.

"Why don't you shut up and focus on not passing out in my Camaro, eh Rambo?" he grumbled good-naturedly, and shifted slightly in his seat, allowing himself to relax a bit for the first time since leaving the hospital.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

Danny kept a watchful, worried eye on the former SEAL, as the latter hobbled over to his bed, lowering himself painfully onto the covers.

"I'll be fine, Danny. Just need to get some sleep." As if to underline his point, Steve stretched himself out on the bed, grunting as the movement brought additional discomfort to his already throbbing injuries, and pushed his head deeper into the pillow, laying a tired hand over his eyes.

The blond detective frowned, unconvinced. "You want me to bring you anything?" he asked gruffly, taking a few steps toward the prone figure. "A bottle of water, a blanket, a competent medical professional?"

The corners of Steve's mouth curled into a tired, amused smile. "Thanks, Danny. I'm good. You really don't have to stay."

"Right..." Danny folded his arms across his chest, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

The hand covering his eyes fell away, and Steve's slightly bleary blues tracked their way slowly to Williams' face.

"Seriously, mother hen, you can stop hovering now... I'm-"

"-good, I know," Danny finished the phrase for him, shaking his head incredulously. _"Stubborn __son__of__a__..."_ He blew out a breath of frustration, fighting to keep himself from outright snapping at his so obviously hurting idiot of a partner.

_So, __okay,__ maybe__ the__ SEAL __wasn't__ gonna __listen __to__ reason. __Doesn't __mean__ that __he,__ Danny,__ has __to __blindly __follow__ him__ like __a __puppet __on __the __goddamn__ strings. _He had already done him one favor - got him out of the hospital and into the comfort of his own home, despite being strongly cautioned against it both by Steve's doctor and the annoyingly insistent voice of reason inside his own head. And seeing how quickly his friend's condition had deteriorated once they left the hospital, Danny was becoming less and less certain that he made the right choice by backing Steve up that way. The notion of leaving the former SEAL to his own devices was just too much, and Danny wasn't about to wage an all-out war against his own conscience._ Enough__ was __enough._

"Look," he began, keeping his voice as level as he possibly could, "I know you would like nothing better than to get rid of me."

Steve quirked an eyebrow at that, and it was all Danny could do to stop himself from physically assaulting the man. Fisting his hands tightly, even as he imagined wrapping them around his irritatingly smirking partner's neck, he continued, once again reminding himself to breathe.

"HOW-ever, if memory serves me correctly, the absolutely, unequivocally binding condition of your release was that you have someone keep an eye on you 24/7."

McGarrett opened his mouth, about to object, but Danny cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "So unless you wanna have your ass hauled back to Queens Medical, the next words coming out of your mouth had better be 'Make yourself at home, Danny.'" He punctuated the last sentence with an assertive nod and folded his arms back on his chest, awaiting a response.

In the heavy silence that followed Steve closed his eyes, feeling suddenly too exhausted and in too much pain to argue. Sleep - that was what he wanted. _No,__ needed.__ Desperately_. Every fiber of his abused and wearied body longed for it. _A__ couple __hours. __That's __all._ Then he'd be as good as new... well, almost. If Danny wanted to waste his time babysitting, he was welcome to do it. _His__ loss_.

"Suit yourself, Danny," he murmured in a feeble whisper, as he waited for the blessedness of oblivion.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

The show was over; the final credits segueing easily into a nightly round of infomercials, and Danny sighed disgustedly, switching off the television set. Silence, held at bay by the quiet sounds of late-night programming, rapidly invaded his little islet of noise, plunging the entire house in absolute stillness, punctuated by the rhythmic lapping of the ocean waves against the nearby shore. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, listening for any sounds of distress from McGarrett's bedroom, but nothing disturbed the peaceful quiet of a warm Hawaiian night. Danny leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, stretching out his tired muscles, as he gave out a big yawn. Steve appeared to still be sleeping, and perhaps it wasn't a bad idea for him to follow the SEAL's example. With that thought in mind, Danny laid himself out on the couch, squirmed restlessly, trying to find a more or less comfortable position, and, still grumbling to himself about the wretchedness of his current accommodations, fell asleep without even realizing it.

-H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50- -H50-

A scream, loud and desperate, pierced the nocturnal quiet, ripping through the warm and cozy blanket of sleep that had wrapped itself around his mind, and Danny bolted upright on the sofa, blinking uncomprehendingly at his surroundings.

_"Steve."_

In the next breath he was already on his feet, bounding up the stairs two-three steps at a time.

"Steve!"

Pushing the bedroom door open, he burst inside and froze, as his eyes fell on the crumpled mess of twisted sheets that was Steve's bed. _Empty._In the eerie twilight of the pale moon, the deserted bed appeared an even more desolate, sinister sight.

Panic gripped him for all of two seconds until he noticed a familiar silhouette on the balcony, huddled against the glass door.

"Thank god," the whispered sigh of relief blew past his lips; the nervous tension retreating just a bit, allowing him a few calming breaths.

Making his way carefully through the murky room, Danny pulled open the second balcony door and stepped outside, glancing sideways at the motionless figure of his partner.

Steve remained perfectly still, making no move to acknowledge Danny's presence. Knees drawn up to his chest, arms hanging limply at his sides, he stared unblinking out into the pitch black waters that rippled softly in the near-stillness. He appeared lost somewhere in a place he alone could see, and a faint gleam of spectral moonlight cast a ghostly shadow on his face, making him seem almost otherworldly.

Danny shivered unconsciously, chalking the sudden chill up to the cool night air, and lowered himself onto the wooden floor next to his seemingly catatonic partner.

Broken briefly by his careful movements, silence resumed its reign, enveloping them both in its soundless cocoon. Danny wasn't sure how long they sat like that. It must have been a while. He might have even nodded off at some point, because when he opened his eyes after what he thought was a simple blink, the sky had grown lighter, a faint pallid glow that heralded the impending dawn.

"It was a simple extraction mission... so they said..."

Steve's words, raspy and quiet, shattered the stillness, catching him unawares, and Danny jumped, hitting his head against the door.

His friend continued talking, seemingly oblivious to his plight, and the Jersey native bit back a curse that threatened to escape his lips and listened with bated breath, like a hiker that stumbles upon a singing nightingale and freezes in place for fear that the slightest sound would break the spell and cause the bird to take flight.

"An informant, who got worried that he might have been found out and wanted us to take him into our custody.

"We flew in at night on a stealth bird... A simple, in and out job. _Simple_!"

A laugh, bitter and humorless, rang hollowly through the tranquil pre-dawn air, and Danny felt his heart clench suddenly with anguish and worry. His hand hovered a moment above the tense, t-shirt clad shoulder, ready to provide its meager comfort - the reassurance of a friend's presence, but indecision held him back and his hand fell away without making contact.

Silence stretched between them again, and Danny found himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from nudging the former SEAL along. Whatever it was, Steve needed to get it off his chest. But he needed to do it at his own pace. The slightest push, and the man might clam up or bolt like a frightened deer. So Danny forced himself to remain silent, fingering his lower lip and keeping a watchful eye on his partner.

Beside him Steve shifted slightly, leaning forward on his drawn-up knees, and Danny felt himself lose the last crumbs of patience that have been holding his lips together.

"What happened?" he prodded, wincing instantly, as he fully expected the former Navy man to take flight.

To his great surprise Steve remained where he was, frozen in the same awkwardly bent pose. His voice, when he finally spoke, had the same dull, hollow ring to it that sent shivers down Danny's spine.

"They were waiting for us," he said simply, and Danny didn't need to ask whom he was referring to.

"An ambush?" he gasped, and Steve merely nodded into his knee.

"They waited until our radio operator was on the ground before they struck. Four of my guys were still in the chopper when they shot it out of the sky. The rest of us - they hit us with everything they had. It was..." Steve raised his head, his gaze lost somewhere thousands of miles away. "They were prepared," he ground out, his voice flat and drained. "Knew exactly how many of us there were gonna be, our weapons, even our procedures. We didn't stand a chance. And neither did our rescue."

Danny felt his insides grow cold at that. "That's why they wanted your radio guy alive."

The whispered guess earned him another nod¸ and Steve continued, still refusing to make eye contact.

"They wanted to take out as many SEALs as they could. They knew we were gonna radio in for extraction. Decided to kill two birds with one stone." Steve's eyes narrowed slightly, his features hardening in the receding shadows of the night.

"I don't know how many were on that second chopper. I'm not even sure if any of them managed to get to the ground. I couldn't see anything. The smoke was too thick. And then I saw this giant fireball, and I knew the chopper was gone." He drew in a shuddering breath, clenching his fists with so much force that the knuckles gleamed an unnatural white in the graying darkness.

"Five of us were pinned down behind this wall, returning fire as best we could. And the shelling was getting closer with every new round. A few more seconds and they were gonna wipe us out.

"There was a line of some pretty massive cliffs on the other side of the river, a few hundred yards from our location. Lots of hollows and overhanging rock. Good cover. I told my guys to make a run for it. If we could make it to the river before the next round hit, we'd be able to hide out there. Regroup."

He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It was our only chance... Problem was, to get to it we had to cross open ground, and with the way they were shelling us..." Steve let the sentence hang, shaking his head despondently.

"We knew some of us weren't gonna make it, but ... we had no other choice. If we stayed there, we'd be as good as dead anyway."

He fell quiet again, closing his eyes and leaning back against the door, and Danny mimicked his posture, shuddering inwardly at the images his friend's story was conjuring up in his mind.

Seconds ticked away in silence, both men sitting perfectly still, lost in their own thoughts, and only the sound of their breathing interrupted the surrounding quiet.

"Did ...uhm... did all of you make it?" Danny asked cautiously, his voice hoarse from non-use. He saw Steve's jawline tighten, a troubled darkening of his features visible even in the feeble light.

"Not all of us."

The strained, whispered reply should have given him everything he needed to know, but to Danny it wasn't enough. Steve needed to get it out. _All__of__it_. That much he knew. The nightmares wouldn't stop, wouldn't have a chance of stopping unless the SEAL opens the floodgate all the way. And so with a heavy but determined sigh of a man about to jump off a cliff, the blond detective gave his partner's proverbial gate one final shove and readied himself for the imminent deluge.

"Lennie?"

The ruse worked. Steve rose abruptly, walking stiffly over to the balustrade, his fingers gripping the railing, curling around the polished wood. Danny stood as well, groaning as his knee protested the aftereffects of sitting too long in a less than comfortable position. Keeping an eye on Steve's painfully rigid back, he hobbled over to the railing next to him and stood there, leaning forward on his elbows, valiantly fighting to keep his mouth shut this time.

The sky grew lighter still, the shapeless imposing silhouettes of the distant mountains becoming clearer and more defined. The timid chirping of the first morning birds bashfully welcomed the approaching dawn.

Gazing out into the gradually brightening waters, Steve spoke again, his voice barely audible over the soft rustling of the wind in the nearby trees.

"He was just a kid, you know. Couldn't have been older than 18. His first mission."

"What happened?" Danny prodded as gently as he could, feeling very much like a wild horse tamer.

Steve closed his eyes, shutting out the paling sky and the gently rippling waters of the ocean.

"He froze." The former SEAL shook his head, as if in disbelief, adding bitterly, "And I didn't even notice until we were half-way to the river."

A tightly clenched fist rose above the railing before slamming sharply and painfully into the wooden surface. "I yelled at my guys to keep going and I went back for him. Grabbed him by his shirt front and shoved him toward the river. I figured there was no time to lose. I was right, too." A weary smile twisted his lips. "I remember hearing this whistling sound behind us, and all I could think of was 'we weren't gonna make it'. I threw myself at the kid. Pushed him as far as I could." He shook his head again. "Seconds later the shell hit."

Danny swallowed painfully against an impossibly dry throat, glancing worriedly at his friend's suddenly trembling hands.

"I ... I think I must have passed out at some point. I remember waking up on my back; Lennie leaning over me. He kept mumbling something, saying he was sorry. ... I told him to shove it, to get his ass across the river. I figured we weren't too far from it at that point. If he made a run for it, he had a pretty good chance."

"Did he?" Danny ventured cautiously. "Run, I mean."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "The damn kid refused to leave me. Picked that moment to remember that he was a SEAL." The fist clenched over the railing again, making the wood creak feebly in protest. "He tried to haul me along with him. I nearly passed out again when he pulled me up, but the kid was so damn determined. Kept hobbling me toward the river, mumbling 'Never leave a man behind, never leave a man behind.'"

Steve took in a harsh, ragged breath, fighting to regain control of his emotions. "We were moving too slowly," he managed gruffly, running a shaky hand over his eyes, "too good a target. One burst of machine-gun fire. That was all it took. The kid was dead before he even hit the ground." He fell silent again, sagging bonelessly against the balustrade. The violent images that haunted his dreams flashing before his unseeing eyes, making him nauseous and lightheaded.

He felt Danny's hand on his shoulder, his partner's voice whispering a sympathetic "I'm sorry". And he shook his head sharply, refusing the words of compassion.

"I went back to try and save him, Danny!" he bit out, turning to face the Jersey detective for the first time. "And I ended up getting him killed."

His voice trembled, the pain behind the dark blue eyes becoming so intense that Danny found himself taking a step forward, closing whatever little distance was left between them, and, mindful of the SEAL's injuries, pulled into a firm and gentle hug. The taller man stiffened at first, taken aback by such uncharacteristic display of affection on the part of his friend. Then came a shuddering breath, and Danny felt the tension leave his friend's body, as the latter leaned feebly, almost desperately into the comforting embrace.

"How bad were you injured?" he asked gruffly, when Steve pulled away.

Steve frowned, turning away abruptly. "Don't do this, Danny," he whispered, his tone almost pleading.

"Do what exactly? Remind you that you are not a superman despite of what you might have convinced yourself?"

"Danny!" his tone was almost pleading now.

"How bad?" the blond repeated, cutting him off. No matter how determined his blockhead of a partner was to drown himself in this sea of self-imposed, irrational guilt, he, Danny, was just as (if not more) determined to pull a little harder on the lifeline and yank the idiot out of it. By Golly, he was going to get through that thick skull of his partner's, no matter what it took. Even if he had to strangle the nonsense out of him in the process.

The former SEAL must have glimpsed some of those murderous thoughts in the unyielding, confrontational glare of Danny's eyes, for he relented finally and dipped his head, his shoulder sagging in defeat.

"The doctors didn't think I was gonna make it," he admitted simply, his voice hoarse and raw with barely suppressed pain. He turned away from Danny, his gaze settling once again on the now brilliant blue waters sparkling below.

The Jersey native nodded somberly. He figured as much. "Then I'd say you went above and beyond. Don't you agree?"

Steve shook his head ruefully. "I couldn't save him," he murmured tiredly. "He was a kid, Danny... only a kid. My charge, and I failed him..."

"But you didn't! Don't you see?" Danny grabbed the former SEAL by his uninjured shoulder and forcibly turned him around to face him, ignoring the latter's sharp hiss of pain at the rough movement. "That kid would have died anyway if you hadn't gone back for him. You did everything you could to save him, nearly died in the process."

"I-"

"Shush!" Danny put up his hand, precluding any further objections by his companion. "My turn now, Aquaman."

Steve shrugged apathetically, acquiescing, and Danny cringed at the dull, defeated look in the other man's eyes.

"Listen to me, please," he began hurriedly, words pouring out of him with dizzying speed, urged on by worry. "I know you're hurting. I know you feel responsible. I get it. I may not agree with that, but I get where you're coming from. I do."

He took a breath, placing both hands gently on his friend's shoulders, trying to catch his anguish-filled blues.

"Before you go wallowing in self-hatred, though, I'd like you to consider something. That boy you saved died a hero. And that was **your** doing." Danny paused for greater dramatics, making sure his words sunk in. "You said he was frozen with fear. You were the one who snapped him out of it. Made him remember that he was a SEAL, not a coward." He gave a small, almost apologetic shrug. "It's small comfort, I know, but... compared to the alternative..."

He let the sentence hang, watching Steve's face intently for any sign that his words were getting through. He expected more objections, anger even. The SEAL's reaction surprised him, though. The taller man gazed out into the distance, eyes clouded over with a distant memory. A brief shake of his head, and he chuckled softly, a bittersweet smile touching his lips.

"His mother said something similar," he whispered, brows raised as if in confusion.

"Should've listened to her," Danny quipped then, casting another worried glance at McGarrett's face, whose near transparent ghostly hue became even more alarmingly pronounced against their steadily brightening surroundings.

As if to confirm his fear, Steve swayed unsteadily in his arms, and Danny swore sharply, tightening his grip.

"Why don't you sit down before you pass out on me, soldier?"

"'M not Army, Danny," Steve griped good-naturedly, letting the shorter man guide him to the floor.

Williams rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, keeping a steadying hand on the SEAL's shoulder, until the latter eased himself wearily against the railing.

The injured man closed his eyes briefly, lifting his face to the gentle rays of the morning sun, relishing in their warm caress.

"She came to see me at the hospital," he murmured softly, and it took Danny a moment to understand what, or rather, whom he was talking about. "I was so doped up on pain-killers, I couldn't even put two words together. I kept trying to say I was sorry. But she... she said I had nothing to be sorry for."

The former Navy man blew out a shuddering breath, incredulous of his own recollections.

"She came to visit me every day since then, you know. Sat by my side, talking to me, holding my hand, while I screamed my head off, trying to escape my nightmares. She told me that helping me heal helped her feel closer to Lennie somehow."

"Makes sense," Danny nodded pensively. "You were with her son when he died. I guess being there for you made her feel like she was being there for him."

A sharp, hoarse bark of a bitter laughter was his response.

"I'm serious, Steve. She-"

"Thank you, Dr. Freud," the former SEAL quipped, letting his head fall back against the wooden bar with a dull crack. "I get it."

"Do you really?" Danny snapped in return. McGarrett's defeatist tone was starting to get on his nerves. "'Cause your nightmares say different."

The dark blue eyes flew open suddenly, seeking out Danny's. "She did get through to me, Danny. Okay? She did. For a while, at least. I guess, part of me wanted to believe her, so I did. I haven't had those nightmares in years. Haven't thought about it in years. Not until-" he broke off suddenly, biting down hard on his lower lip. _The __last__ thing __he __needed __was __for __Danny __to __start __feeling __guilty__ over__ this.__ His__ screwed __up__ psyche __was__ his__ problem,__ and __his__ alone._

But the Jersey detective had already figured it out.

"Your injuries from your little stunt with Wo Fat," he gasped, the realization - a mask of abject horror on his face. "The shrapnel. They were similar, weren't they?"

"Too similar," Steve acknowledged reluctantly, unable to contain a small shudder that didn't go unnoticed by his ever-observant detective friend.

Silence stretched awkwardly between them, and McGarrett felt compelled to break it.

"Listen, Danny, you know it's not-"

"-my fault? Right?" Danny grinned knowingly at him. "We make quite a pair, you and I. Plenty of guilt to pass around."

"Yeah..." The pale, bloodless lips stretched in a wan smile. "Hard habit to kick, I guess."

"Actually," Danny objected, a familiar smirk lighting his features, "in my case it's probably more a case of 'if you lie down with fleas...'"

"Wasn't it 'with dogs', Danny?"

"No. No. I like dogs. I see no need in drawing them into such a slanderous equation."

"I see. But you have no qualms about comparing me to a bunch of fleas."

"Well, if the shoe fits..."

"Funny, Danno. Real funny."

"I aim to please."

They fell silent again, but this time the uneasy tension was gone, melted away by the familiar comfort of their friendly banter.

A protracted yawn broke up their peaceful quiescence, and Steve lifted an amused brow at his friend, smiling softly. "Go home, Danny. Get some sleep. I'll be alright."

At the other's rather skeptical look, he added. "Despite what you might think, I am a big boy. I can do without a babysitter at least for a little while." The blue eyes crinkled mischievously. "Seriously, man, you look like shit. Go. Get out of here."

Danny was silent for a while, mulling over whether or not to tell the Navy man exactly what he thought about Steve's own "glowing" appearance.

"You know," he said finally, "there is this Russian expression I heard back in Jersey - sticking to someone like a bath leaf to a wet ass. It comes from their sauna tradition, apparently, where they use these bundles of birch twigs for massage. If a leaf comes off a twig and gets stuck to your wet skin, it's really hard to get off (or so they say). Hence the expression."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, incredulity written all over his face. "Is there a point to this culture lesson, Danny?"

"Sure there is," the blond detective's grin reached epic proportions. "Whether you like it or not, my friend, I am planning on sticking by you like that same leaf."

The former SEAL made a mock choking sound, shaking his head. "If you're a leaf, what does that make me then?" he wondered jokingly.

"Well, I told you how the expression goes, McGarrett," the Jersey native deadpanned. "Or would you like me to repeat it for you?"

"No. No, I got it." Steve's lips quivered with the effort of holding back laughter. "It's just ... I think I prefer a different version of this expression."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

The face of the task force leader broke into a wide, impish smile that showed a neat row of perfectly white teeth, and he replied with as much gravity as he could muster, "The one about sticking like shit to a blanket."

"Careful, McGarrett, you know I can actually take you down right now."

"You really wanna get stuck having to babysit me longer than necessary, Danno?"

"Good point."

"Thought so."

"Ass."

"Don't make me call you the 's' word."

"Shut up, McGarrett."

"Love you, too, Danno."

THE END

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><p>Phew. I'm gonna go put on my flak vest now and wait (impatiently) to hear your thoughts :)<p> 


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